Some people were just too stupid to live and I had my eyes trained on one of them. This little slip of a girl decided it would be the greatest idea ever to go wandering in a graveyard in the middle of the night. It was like she wanted to get chopped up into a million pieces and then sent to the very bowels of Hell.

The full moon illuminated her path as she picked her way across the twigs and dried leaves that littered the ground. A breeze picked up, rustling the branches hanging above her and casting jagged shadows on the ground. A snap stabbed at her from a distance and the girl froze in place. Instead of taking those sounds as a warning, she ignored them, and continued through the headstones. My heart rate picked up with her every step, blood thrumming in my veins while she crept deeper and deeper into the graveyard.

More leaves rustling, a jolting crack from the girl’s right, but it was hard to gauge the distance between her and that sound. Maybe it was the wind. Maybe I was panicking for nothing.

Doubtful.

Part of me wanted to call out to her, warn her, but that was foolish. The girl stumbled farther and farther into the dark and still hadn’t realized that turning around was a good thing.

Too. Stupid. To. Live.

The girl stumbled and fell to the ground, the heel of one of her stilettos snapping off in that split second. I wanted to slap the ever-loving shit out of her for her choice in fashion alone. Stilettos? Really? The chick had worn a chaste white dress with stilettos.

One of these things is not like the others. Either go balls to the wall whore or stick with the good girl look. Mix and match was not working in her favor and now her fashion choices were gonna kill her.

Sad, really. The chick had a nice rack. I bet guys would have liked to get up close and personal with her.

A wolf howled in the distance and the girl froze once more. She spun in place, gaze darting around her midnight surroundings. Tears flooded her eyes and it seemed the chick finally realized the truth. She was gonna die.

She yanked off her shoes and tossed them to the side before she broke into a mad dash across the cemetery. Her feet pounded over the overgrown grass as she cut between the graves.

I sighed. Stepping on graves was not the greatest of ideas as proven by what happened next…

A rotted hand thrust up through the dirt, bony fingers gripping the girl’s ankle and halting her race to freedom. The chick screamed as the undead horror yanked her to the ground.

I screamed right along with the her. The shout burst from my chest and I jolted in my seat, spilling popcorn all over the couch.

Jezebeth jumped too, but I’m pretty sure it was in reaction to me and not the undead-ish thing on the screen.

My best friend then flashed me a dark glare and punched my arm. “Seriously? You’ve killed thousands of zombies and a horror flick scares you?”

“Didn’t hurt.” I rubbed my arm and glared at Jezze in return. Okay, it hurt a little. The witch must have put a little something extra behind her hit.

Bryony—my adopted son—rested on the floor in front of the couch, stretched out on his stomach with his own bowl of popcorn nearby. He glanced over his shoulder and got into the Let’s Make Fun of Caith game. He threw his head back and cackled. “Mom’s a fraidy-cat!”

I glowered at my kid, not sure if I was angrier at being called a coward or a cat. My inner wolf—the beast I had inherited from one of my five fathers (don’t ask)—snarled and growled at the comparison.

“Hey, Jezze,” I lifted a single eyebrow, my eyes on Bry, “I think it’s after a certain someone’s bedtime. Don’t you?”

“The cat thing was a mistake, kid.” Jezebeth mumbled.

“Nooo!” Bryony pushed to his hands and feet and crawled closer to the TV. “I wanna see how it ends, Mom. Please.”

I clutched my popcorn bowl in one hand and picked up the scattered remains of my snack with the other. “Are we done with the kitty references? Or do I need to turn off the TV and call your Grandpa Al so he can explain the differences between werewolves and cats?”

Not that I’d actually call Alrick Fallon—High Wolf of North America. Papa Al wouldn’t help my cause. He’d scoop Bry up, tell him he was a good boy for annoying his mother and then they’d eat themselves into a food coma.

But I didn’t have to tell Bryony his grandfather was a pushover.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I swear.” Those big brown eyes were locked onto mine and I sighed.

He wasn’t sorry, but at least he apologized. I’d have to teach him how to lie better. The only child of Satan’s niece needed to be better at being evil.

I’d been hesitant to even let him stay up and watch a horror movie with Jezze and me, but I figured after all the horrors he’d witnessed in real life—murdered family, nearly kidnapped by a demon god, brainwashed into a prophet child by a goddess’ evil cult… he was probably desensitized to scary shit by now. Really, the movie was more like a kid’s cartoon when compared to Bry’s experiences.

“Park that butt and finish your movie. I’ll be right back.” I grumbled the words, adding a little of my wolf’s snarl, and my kid gave me a gap-toothed grin in return.

He lied when he apologized and I lied when I acted angry. And obviously, neither of us was very good at it.

I pushed to my feet and headed toward the kitchen for a beer. I smiled at Esmeralda—Bryony’s new nanny—as I made my way to the fridge. She had folded Bry’s laundry while we relaxed and watched the movie. I’d invited her to join us, but she wasn’t interested. Honestly, the woman never seemed to be interested in anything fun. The only thing she did, other than work, was read, and she didn’t read cool books either. No comic books, horror novels, or even super steamy romance novels when she had a literary itch to scratch. Nope, she read literature. Gag. She had bookshelves of crap that had scared high school students for generations in her room.

I retrieved a beer and tipped it toward Esmeralda in greeting before I retraced my path to the living room. I strode around the corner in time to watch the dumb blonde actress attempt to climb an old tree to escape the zombies chasing her. Rookie move.

I rounded the end of the couch, intent on reclaiming my spot, but the heavy thud of a fist against my front door froze me in place. Nothing good ever came from late night visits. As for people visiting me late at night? It was either a lost pizza delivery guy or the world was ending. And in my experience, the world threatened to end fairly often.

I reached behind me with my free hand, fingers tingling in anticipation of wrapping around the handle of the blade strapped to my back. Except… I’d taken it off before the movie. Dammit.

At least I kept weapons on the wall. To the casual visitor, they were decorative. To me, they were sharp, deadly, and readily available. I never let myself get too far from some method of destruction. Too much shit had happened to me over the centuries for me to be unarmed.

Esmeralda got to the door first, revealing the visitor while I headed to the nearest wall-mounted sword. I almost told her to wait a damn minute—I really didn’t feel like interviewing for a new nanny—but then I remembered what I liked so much about this nanny. Esmeralda was a dhampir—half human, half vampire. She got the best of both worlds that way—all kinds of badass strength and speed without the whole blood craving ickiness and painful poof when she went into the sunlight.

I followed her to the door and stayed just out of sight, searching the shadows to identify my late-night visitor.

Fuck me sideways with an Energizer Bunny powered purple dildo, I would never have expected him to show up on my doorstep.

I would have known how to deal with an angel or demon—gels or dems. Gels didn’t talk to me at all. Something about me being the niece of the devil and the controlling evil presence in Orlando. They were picky like that. As for the dems, they knew better than to bother me at home. They had a problem? They could show up at my bar, Hell’s Chapel, and whine at me there. My home was my magically protected castle.

I would have been better prepared to handle a frantic tweener—creatures that lived in the world between On High and Hell—at this time of night.

I wasn’t sure how to react to this guy— a human—Robin Boyd, mayor of Orlando at that.

“Mr. Mayor,” I drawled, unable to hide my hate for the annoying little man. “What an unexpected pleasure to see you. At my home. In the middle of the Hell-damned night.”

We had a sort of working relationship that generally existed in the Monday-through-Friday, eight-to-five arena. Not after midnight on a Saturday.

Boyd was one of the few humans who knew about dems, gels, and tweens, and his office actively fought to keep the truth about nonhuman events away from the public. I ruled Orlando’s nonhuman population and made sure they didn’t turn humans into Sunday dinner. In exchange, I got to handle my business without being sent to jail. Like, when I killed an evil warlock intent on sucking out the souls of the local populace. No jail time for this immortal chick. Boom.

“Caith.” Boyd straightened and adjusted his disheveled tie. The little patch of hair on his balding head stuck out at all angles, adding to his frazzled appearance. “I don’t normally make house calls, but—“

I rolled my eyes and leaned my sword against the wall before crossing my arms over my chest. “Lemme guess. You need my help.”

Couldn’t I get one night with my kid without having to kill and-or maim someone?

Boyd nodded like a bobble-head doll. “There’s an issue at the coroner’s office.”

I ran a hand through my black and violet dyed hair, fingers sliding through the strands until I reached the ends. I paused and frowned at the split ends. I seriously needed a haircut and probably a color touch-up. Maybe this time I’d go—

“Did you hear me?”

Pushy little human. My hair color wasn’t any less important than his “issue.”

“Coroner’s office? Did one of your guys pack up a vampire again?” I shook my head. “I keep telling you to at least clue those guys in about vamps. It would save on the city’s health insurance costs if you weren’t constantly institutionalizing employees.”

He ignored my comment about healthcare costs. Apparently the opinions of non-voters didn’t matter. “I’m not sure what they are. None of them show bite marks. I assume it’s zombies.”

“You know what they say about assuming? You get a bite taken out of your ass.” Or something like that. “Let’s hope it’s only zombies. They’re easier to handle than vamps. A quick slice and dice and they’re out of commission.”

“Whatever they are, I need you to deal with them. Quietly. I don’t need another city-wide panic on my hands.”

I didn’t need to almost get killed by whatever caused the city-wide panic, so at least we were on the same page. “No promises, but I’ll check it out.”

He opened his mouth as if to add something else, but I was done listening. He’d ruined my movie night with my kid. I’d go kill whatever needed killing, but I wasn’t going to stand here and listen to him spout off any more.

I kicked the door closed and Esmeralda snapped the lock into place the moment the latch clicked.

I went to a nearby stash of weapons—tapping the wall to reveal the keypad and then entering the code so I had access to my toys.

“Jezze?” I called to my friend and listened as she gathered her things.

“Coming!” Jezze had her own bag of tricks, although hers were more along the lines of potion bottles and snarled words, while I leaned toward cutting things to pieces.

I strapped two swords to my back and tucked a knife into each boot. A small handgun rested in a hidden holster against my lower back. A headshot to a zombie would get rid of ‘em. It wouldn’t be as fun as chopping off its head, but it would do the job.

The soft patter of little bare feet reached me and I turned to watch Bryony shuffle toward me. I crouched down and waited for him to draw near before I tugged him even closer. I ruffled his hair and dropped a kiss on top of his head. He was cute, my kid. Not biologically mine—Bryony was a brownie, and I’m something altogether different—but that didn’t make him any less mine.

“You gotta go kill stuffs?” A slight frown marred his little face. In brownie years, he was a hint over three, but to humans he looked like a scrawny six-year-old.

“Momma’s gotta take care of some business, sweetie.” Momma, it felt good. There was nothing temporary about our situation, even if it had started out a little unusual. His parents had been killed, and while he was on the literal chopping block, I dispatched their killers. See? It was only a smidge odd.

Now, Bry simply called me Mom and I wasn’t sure if he made a distinction between his biological mother and me anymore. We didn’t talk about it. I’m awesome at avoidance.

“Be careful, okay?” He wrapped his little arms around me and hugged my neck tightly while I gently patted his back.

I hated worrying him, but it wasn’t like I could shelter him from all the crazy shit in Mouse Town. The famous mouse’s house is filled with demons and I’m the bitch who has to keep them in line. Which was why Esmeralda had joined our merry band of blood, death, and evil. She could keep Bryony safe while I ran off to kill the big baddies of the day.

“Don’t worry, kiddo.” I pinched his cheek and he batted my hand away. “I’ll be back soon. You better be in bed when I get home. No giving Esme a hard time, okay?”

I used the nickname I’d come up with for the nanny just to see if I could get a rise out of her. A glare, a frown, something. And I got… nothing other than her normal stern expression.

Esmeralda moved closer and placed her hands on Bryony’s shoulders. A silent show of support? Dear Lucifer, the woman might have actual emotions.

I stood and went to the door, my kid’s eyes on me as I left. I knew he understood that I was just doing my job. I’m not a hero or some selfless good guy. I have my own secrets and special brand of hellfire I like to stir, but I couldn’t stand around while people messed up my town.

Not because I cared about the ones who would be hurt. Mainly it’s because I’m a territorial bitch and Orlando is mine. It’s the wolf in me, I think. This bitch wants to piss on every inch of Orlando and warn others away. I don’t think I have a bladder big enough to handle the job, but the beast wants to give it a shot anyway.

Jezze and I climbed into my sleek black SUV. My old clunker had been torn apart once or twice… or a dozen times. Whatever. Now I had something fancy with four-wheel drive, a powerful engine, and big ass tires. All the better to run you over with, my dear.

I followed Boyd through the city toward the morgue, hoping this little problem wasn’t one that could spread. Zombies? All I had to do was slice and dice the rotting corpses and take out the witch or warlock who had decided it was a good idea to play with dead things. A zombie bite didn’t create other zombies. It created a nasty staph infection, though. Ick.

Hell help me if I had to deal with ghouls, though. They weren’t the typical horror movie brain eaters; they tended to stick with blood in general—not necessarily brains. One bite created another ghoul and one ghoul could turn as many as two dozen in a single night. Hundreds more if they got out of control and weren’t stopped early. Jezze had some spells that could help the bitten, but only if we managed to stop the transition within an hour of exposure. Longer than that and the only cure was a sword to the neck.

“I’m sure this won’t be too bad,” Jezze mumbled as she dug through her purse. She tugged out a few vials and tucked them in her bra.

“Yeah,” I agreed but I wasn’t sure I believed myself. My wolf was twitchy and grumbling just beneath the surface of my skin.

“Seriously.” She pulled out another little baggy. “A little undead. Nothing we can’t handle.”

“Uh-huh.” I pinched my lower lip. I wasn’t in the mood to argue, but the closer we got to the morgue, the more my gut twisted.

We pulled into the morgue’s parking lot and into a spot. I followed the mayor into the building, Jezze on my heels. Men in dark suits stood around the building, sunglasses shielding their eyes even though it was the middle of the night. I knew none of the tweens or dems would work for the asshole and he was too evil for gels to lend a hand. Private human security, then. Poor bastards. Working for Boyd would get them killed.

“It’s down here.” Boyd pointed to a set of stairs that led to the basement level. The recently deceased were stored in refrigerated cabinets kept in the lower level. “I think there’s only one, but I didn’t go down there to check myself.”

I snorted. “Right.” I drew my swords, palming the perfectly balanced weapons. “Did you block all of the exits?”

“That’s the first thing we did. I’m not an idiot.”

An argument lingered on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it back. Insulting the mayor would only stir up trouble I didn’t need. Maybe later.

Jezze and I headed down the darkened stairwell. Most of the lights were out except for a few flickering fluorescent bulbs. We remained silent, watchful, and wary of what we’d find at the bottom. And what we found… It was a scene even more bloody and chaotic than the zombie movie we’d been watching less than an hour ago.

The refrigerated cabinets hung open, a few bloody corpses lying on the rolling tables inside, their flesh slashed with claw marks. The others… empty. I hoped it was because the morgue was having a slow day. Not because the bodies decided to get up and walk out.

Two fresher corpses lay on the ground near the center of the room, both clad in white lab coats stained red with blood. Their skin had retained a little flush, as if life hadn’t left them too long ago. I stepped around them, careful not to step in the puddle of blood that surrounded the bodies. I nodded to the corpses, silently asking Jezze to do her thing.

She crouched by the bodies and sprinkled a dusting of mystical powder over them while she whispered the words of her spell. We couldn’t be sure what killed the humans, but if it was something that turned its victims into the undead, we needed to stop them from rising again. As long as it wasn’t too late, Jezze’s magic would do the job.

Although, if it was too late… I’d have to take care of them the old-fashioned way. I was suddenly sad that I hadn’t brought my trusty Louisville Slugger on the trip.

While Jezze worked, I stalked the long row of refrigerated cabinets, peeking into each one. Most seemed to have been pulled open from the outside. Most, but not all. One near the end was mangled—twisted off its hinges as if something had busted out.

I used the tip of my sword to nudge the broken door aside and peer into the gloom. The tray inside was covered with a bloody white sheet, but there was no sign of who—or what—had been in there.

I leaned in and sniffed, letting my inner wolf come out to play. The stench of blood made the hairs on the back of my neck rise and the wolf pushed a low growl from my throat. Dark. Putrid. Evil. I sniffed a few more times to make sure I had the scent memorized.

I had just confirmed what the mayor told me. I had a case of the living dead.

Goody.

I followed the scent toward the back of the space—the loading dock—but the bay doors were closed tight. No hint of blood or decay filled the air. No way the undead beastie escaped that way.

I moved on, quietly padding to the bathroom. I nudged the door open with my sword and peered into the darkened room. Thanks to my werewolf blood, I had no trouble seeing in the dark. A quick scan showed me there was no one in the small area.

I turned to move on, but another scent caught my wolf’s attention. The fresh, crisp aroma of the outside—clear air with a dash of car exhaust.

I sighed and moved deeper into the bathroom. I tilted my head back and my gaze zeroed in on a small window near the ceiling that led to the ground level. Luckily for me, it was shattered. I glanced at the tile floor. No hint of glass on the ground which meant it had been broken from the inside.

“Shit,” I muttered and stomped to the bathroom door. I leaned out and shouted. “Jezze! It got out through the window. I’m in pursuit!”

Her answering yell reached me just as I got to the wall once more. I’d have to chase the thing down myself. Jezze needed to stick behind and work her mojo on every corpse in the morgue. Just to be sure they wouldn’t have any walking undead later. I doubted the mayor would be all that happy with a half-dozen dead bodies climbing the stairs in search of human flesh.

Then again, I’d pay to see him in the middle of a zombie-induced panic attack. Could be fun.

I tossed my swords through the window and then jumped and grasped the ledge. Broken glass scraped my skin while I hauled my fluffy ass outside. The stinging pain zipped through me and I grunted as I crawled through the jagged opening. If my leathers got ripped, the city was buying me another jacket and pants. Good ones. Not the cheap stuff.

I followed the scent through the shadow-cloaked streets, the area silent as if the world held its breath, afraid to make a sound. I reached a nearby park and scanned the landscape. It was completely deserted though I was sure there should at least be a drug dealer or two hanging around. It seemed even the criminals knew something was up.

I stopped at the edge of the park, swords in hand, and tipped my head back. I sniffed the air. The scent had become muddled at the edge of the park, but I knew I was almost on top of the creature.

A flicker of bluish light drew my gaze, a distant glow in the darkness. Someone’s lost cell phone? Ha! If only. My wolf growled and paced, glaring at the hovering glimmer. It didn’t want to get anywhere near that hint of blue.

Which was why I headed in that direction, of course. And when I got there… Yeah, it was worse than I’d anticipated.

The walking corpse stood in the middle of the park, wearing the bloody, tattered remains of a white hospital gown. Its skin wasn’t the normal paleness of a dead body but held a hint of light blue. Its eyes glowed and shimmered in the darkness with that same mystical blue.

Magic. Dark. Evil.

It held another body in his grasp, limp and immobile. The shimmer to the boy’s skin and pointed tips of his ears told me his species—elf. He looked like no more than a teen, but that didn’t mean much when it came to elves. He was probably decades old.

The undead monster held him with claw-tipped fingers, nails digging into the boy’s skin. The creature bowed over the boy, their faces nearly touching. Unfortunately, instead of stumbling across some erotic live-action porn, I had to watch the monster suck out the elf’s life energy.

I would have preferred live porn.

A thin, icy blue stream of light flowed from the elf’s mouth. Manna—the supernatural energy that flowed through the bodies of tweens. With a continuous inhale, the undead sucked it from the boy, his glimmering skin fading to a flat white while his body became limper with each passing moment.

Unholy shit.

I didn’t know what kind of creature could do such a thing. It looked like a ghoul, body shriveled and with sharp claws and nails typical of their kind. But I’d never encountered a ghoul that could feed on the life force of somebody.

Well, if someone brought the ghoul to life, I could kill it. Hopefully.

“Hey, fugly!” I called out as I rushed forward, blades firmly in hand. The ghoul swung his attention to me, ending its connection with the elf. The blue flow of energy faded and the elf coughed, but his complexion told me he still hovered on the verge of death.

The ghoul dropped the elf and rushed toward me, claws extended. Sickly blue light streamed along their length, leaving a trail of energy in the air with each move the creature made. I called on my own dark power, reaching into the flames of Hell and gathered the flickering heat that resided there. I channeled the hellfire into my blades and both swords erupted in a shower of red flames hot enough to melt steel and cook undead flesh with a single touch.

The ghoul rushed nearer and I slashed at his decaying body. I expected my blow to take his arm off. Instead, he grabbed my blade and brushed it aside as if it was nothing more than an annoyance. Okay, ghouls were strong—stronger than humans and some tweens—but it shouldn’t have been able to match my strength.

Again. Unholy shit.

The hellfire scorched his skin, but the blue light encasing his body appeared to protect him from the worst of the heat. His unexpected deflection threw me off balance.

I’d never admit it, but sometimes Papa Letholdus was right. I was a cocky, lazy soldier.

The ghoul closed in, slashing his deadly claws in my direction. I staggered back, parrying his strikes with my swords. The ghoul was fast. Faster than any damned shambling mound of flesh had any right to be. His movements were a blur of blue energy and I had to fight to keep my guard up with his attacks. I shuffled back, trying to put distance between us so I could recover my balance and go on the offensive.

There was something else in its eyes, too. An intelligence—awareness—that no ghoul should possess.

I’d seen this kind of weird behavior in zombies in the past—zombies that’d broken into my home and trashed my shit.

I’d chopped all their heads off so that was fun. Okay, I had a little help, but we weren’t talking about that, were we?

No, my focus needed to remain on the ghoul, and whoever it was that controlled the inhuman thing. It was the only explanation for its cunning and determination. I had to fight to protect myself, but whoever controlled the ghoul didn’t have to worry about being hurt. The ghoul was just a puppet to get to me.

It kept pressing the attack and I was forced to remain on the defensive the entire time.

A deep growl built in my chest and rose along my throat. It had backed me against a tree and I was running out of places to go. The ghoul slashed at me again. I parried with one blade then used the other to hack through one of the low-hanging branches overhead. The branch broke free and clobbered the ghoul, distracting him for just a moment, but it was long enough for me to take a breath and hack at the ghoul with all my strength. I dropped my blade through his flesh and chopped one of his arms clean off—the hunk of rotted flesh tumbling to the ground.

The ghoul squealed and slashed at me with its other claw. I tried to deflect—tried, dammit—but it was too fast. Its claw scraped my side and sliced through my shirt (one of my favorites too, On High dammit) and into my flesh. It was a shallow wound, nothing more than a scratch, but it burned like a motherfucker.

I growled in pain and fury, my wolf snarling, and swung my other sword. The hellfired metal sliced through its neck and its head rolled across the grass, leaving a trail of dark blood and blue light in its wake. But the eyes … Those eyes seemed to stare at me—intent, unflinching, and familiar?

Like it knew me.

Then the energy faded and the glow disappeared. The ghoul was nothing more than a deformed hunk of dismembered flesh.

I pressed one hand to my side and dropped my sword while I stumbled forward. I bent and checked on the fallen elf, his chest slowly rising and falling with rattling breaths. He was alive, but just barely.

I released my side long enough to dig my cell phone out of my pocket. I dialed Sorsha’s number—she was a healer I’d worked with in the past. She’d know what to do.

The moment she answered, I spoke. “Sorsha, I’ve got a hurt kid here. Multiple lacerations and a…” I glanced at the unmoving body. “A ghoul of some kind was sucking on his life force. He needs help fast.”

“Where?”

I gave her the address of the park.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

I ended the call and flopped to the ground beside the elven boy. Good. Help was on the way. There wasn’t anything I could do for him, but Sorsha would work her magic. Then I could go home and…

And fuck my side hurt. The wolf still hadn’t healed the damage and I lifted my shirt to look at the wound. It hadn’t felt deep when the ghoul scratched me, and a quick glance confirmed that it wasn’t bad. But it still bled. It should…

Well, I knew what it should be doing and I knew what it shouldn’t be doing. Like, it shouldn’t have a faint streak of blue light dancing along its edges.

It looked like I needed Sorsha’s help as well.

Goody.