Is TDCM right? Were the demon attacks really going to stop? My gut, and a healthy dose of paranoia, had me convinced we’d just seen the start of it.

For once, I wanted to be wrong. Demons weren’t good for anyone. Not humans, wizards, and most especially witches.

So why then was the college of wizards, and the idiots running things, so determined to cut off their noses to spite their faces? How could they let their dislike of my impure origins prevent them from collaborating with me? We were on the same side. We both wanted to stop demon attacks.

Didn’t we?

What possible reason could they have for not wanting to stop the possession of household pets and humans by parasitic entities?

What if they want to eliminate witches? Their disdain for us ran deep, but surely even they wouldn’t stoop to allowing our savage murder?

Demons didn’t just enjoy witch blood. Any magical blood would do. I’d seen one snack on the head doofus, Morfeus, at a library incident. The demons have only come after witches so far—easy prey—but what about when witches became scarce? Guess who they would turn to next?

Maybe if a few wizards got munched on, they’d change their tune. Not that I wished it on them. I didn’t wish getting ripped apart and eaten by demons on anyone. Except for the jerk who’d broken into my car and stolen my Guardians of the Galaxy CD. I hoped he burned in a special place in Hell.

If the TDCM thought themselves too good for me, then screw them. I’d work on my own. I had resources. Perhaps not the same ability to grease palms as Morfeus and his crew, but I’d amassed a fair amount of friends over the years. As for those who couldn’t be bought? They could be cursed. I never claimed to be a good witch.

I pulled my car—a tiny little eco-friendly thing—into the chain-linked yard that passed as a parking lot. It had no lines and was covered in gravel. Paving it proved an expense I just couldn’t afford, and my landlord almost had a heart attack laughing when I asked.

Exiting my vehicle, I stretched and popped my limbs. My vehicle lacked the size and comfort of other cars, but I liked to think I did my small part to help the Earth.

It didn’t hurt that my cousin Vinny had gotten it for me at a sweet, factory-price deal.

Pulling my satchel from the trunk—just about the only thing that would fit in it—I turned to survey my office. The official coven headquarters for this sector—which covered five states.

Sounded impressive, right?

Wrong. The reality wasn’t anything close.

The warehouse looked depressing in daylight. Gray sheet metal exterior dotted with dirty windows, blacked out from the inside. A few of them were missing panes, teenagers having thrown rocks at them until they learned better—my windows tended to throw back, harder. That missing glass was covered in plywood.

Hard to believe this ugly excuse of a building was the headquarters for the Glas Cailleach, one of the biggest covens in the United States.

Biggest, and yet the youngest witch ran it. With me being just over thirty years of age, many had argued that I didn’t have the maturity to manage a group this size. But none could deny I had the magic. The trials they’d put me through made that clear.

It also helped that no one wanted to deal with the pompous fools at the TDCM offices, except for me. Apparently, I was a sucker for punishment.

Entering, my male secretary—because today’s world had an excess of men and a lack of women, some weird biological thing that scientists couldn’t figure out—looked up from his computer. The glasses perched on the tip of his nose were a bright red today, the frames contrasting with Kal’s ebony hair and green eyes.

A good-looking guy, Kal didn’t lack for companionship. With the world population tipping in the Y chromosome area, the stigmas against homosexuals had finally been eradicated.

People were now free to love whomever they wanted, and if you were a woman and wanted more than one guy?

Well, hell, there were tax breaks if you did your part to keep the population happy and growing.

Not me, though. I wasn’t ready to settle down with a reverse harem and pop out babies like so many of my friends had. Not that I was averse to the idea of children, more like I’d yet to find a man I wanted to have any with.

At the risk of sounding totally snobby, considering how much I hated Morfeus and his haughty gang of wizards, I wasn’t sure I could settle for a regular ol’ human.

I had magic at my fingertips. I could do incredible things. Impossible things. I kind of wanted my kids to inherit that ability, not to mention a guy I could share that with.

According to my mother, I needed to stop being so picky.

“Have I introduced you to Frederick yet?” Frederick was my mother’s eighteen-year-old and single neighbor. Then there was Billy, the Geek Squad guy who came to fix her computer on a regular basis because she refused to put her coffee in a travel mug. And don’t forget Stavros. Sure, he was pushing eighty with great-grandkids, but he’d just buried wife number three.

I don’t need help finding a man. Men were bountiful. Men that weren’t jerks or only after sex? Those were much rarer. Scarcer even than unicorns, which it turned out were quite plentiful once they stopped hiding.

Perhaps Mother had a point. Maybe I did need help. After all, when was the last time I went on a date?

The fact that I couldn’t remember didn’t bode well.

“So, we got a call from the TDCM,” Kal announced.

“Did they change their mind about having me on their taskforce?” I asked. Maybe they realized the error of their ways.

Ha. Pigs would fly before that happened.

But didn’t a lab claim to have grown wings on a pig?

The world needed a better expression.

“The call had nothing to do with the case. They wanted to know if you were going to have a plus one for the ball.”

Only if Hell froze over. “Are you freaking kidding me?” As if I didn’t have better things to worry about than some stupid ball.

As head of the coven, I was expected to attend. After all, my witchy ancestors had fought for their right to be recognized by the supernatural groups and not be burned at the stake.

If I were to be completely honest, the ball wasn’t completely horrible. I got to hobnob with some really interesting people because it wasn’t just wizards that attended but also folks from all supernatural walks of life.

All kinds. Since the event usually took place at the Atlantis—a newly built establishment for the supernatural with the world’s largest aquarium—even the merfolk deigned to attend. Although they did grumble about being forced to have their females wear bathing suit tops. Apparently, it went against their aquatic beliefs. But for the comfort of those who didn’t believe in nudity, they complied and hid the nipples. Which led to a movement that protested, topless of course, with signs that said Free the Boobies.

“What should I tell them?” Kal asked. “Apparently, they need a final head count for the caterers.”

Tell them my love life sucks. The only guy I could think of on short notice was sitting in front of me and would probably end up in a corner making out with a high-ranking elf.

For some reason, I thought of the blond hottie I’d met that morning. I’d bet he’d look pretty good in a tux. However, even I wasn’t desperate enough to hunt him down and ask him to be my date.

Yet.

Things could change, though. With demons invading our world, who knew what the future held? I might decide I needed one last hurrah.

“How about I hold off on replying,” was Kal’s diplomatic suggestion.

I shook my head. “The ball is in less than a week, I doubt I’ll have a date in that short of time. Tell them no.” I’d fly solo, just a desperate witch in a dress forced to shave her legs and wedge her feet into heels.

Shit. Speaking of a dress… I still had to go shopping for one since it was considered quite gauche to wear the same one year after year. Obviously, a rule enacted by folks who could afford to buy expensive gowns they would wear only once.

I mentally added shopping to my growing list of things to do.

At this rate, I’d never find a man. Perhaps it was time to let my mother meddle in my love life.

Ack. Perish the thought.

“Did anything turn up on the Peabody autopsy?” The man who’d owned the house that blew up was the first human to show signs of possession. Previous reports had them inhabiting the bodies of cats and, in one case, a squirrel.

With the realization that they could possess humans, it elevated the urgency of the problem. Especially since we hadn’t found a way to shove the demon out yet.

Exorcism? Made the entity laugh.

Magic? Made it giggle. It tickles.

The color red? Made those possessed go ballistic.

Peabody, our first case of possession in a human, had tried to eat a nurse with a red hair clip at the mental institution they’d sent him to for observation. A sound decision at the time, considering Peabody kept claiming his house was eating people. Turned out, it was true, but even if someone had immediately believed him, it wouldn’t have saved Peabody. By then the demon had already attached itself to him.

Wizards, witches—aka me—and even priests had done their best to oust the spirit from his body. Everything failed, and in the end, Peabody had ended up succumbing to his demonic affliction.

When Peabody died—hung in his room with a bedsheet, which was quite the feat considering he had nothing tall to suspend from—the TDCM confiscated the body, fudging the paperwork for the humans to make it seem as if he’d been cremated.

In reality, the corpse ended up at a secret supernatural lab where it was dissected, first by magic and then by scalpel.

I’d been waiting on the results.

Kal shook his head. “Still nothing. They are holding the results tight.”

“What about Sylvia?” My usual contact at Fairy Fingers—disguised as a physiotherapist’s building, but what was, in actuality, a TDCM satellite office that handled lab work. Sylvia manned the reception desk for Fairy Fingers, and while a bit of an uptight snob, she had a weakness for my grandmother’s fudge.

“Unfortunately, she’s still on vacation for another week. Her replacement is not as cooperative.”

Great. Just great. I’d hit a dead end, and it wasn’t even lunch yet.

I spent the day going through the same reports. Poking my network of spies, which poked back and said they were on to something but not telling me what. I spent some time staring at the map I’d pinned on the wall. The tacks peppering it were multi-colored.

Red for confirmed dead witches by violent means.

Blue for possible demon activity—i.e., household pets going missing, desecration of churches and graveyards.

And green for missing supernaturals. Which happened a lot more lately since the humans found out about them. Considering the difficulty humanity had with multiculturism, the addition of people who weren’t normal by their definition really proved difficult for them to accept. Although, in a positive bit of news, humans had stopped their war against each other because of religious beliefs and skin color. They now had a common enemy.

Sales of books titled How to Defend Yourself Against Werewolves, One Hundred and One Ways To Make Your Garden Unattractive to Fairies, and Hiding Among You: How to Spot a Ghoul Neighbor shot through the roof.

Sporting goods stores loved the tension in society. Most now offered an expanded selection of axes, machetes, crossbows, and, of course, silver ammunition.

That wasn’t to say all humans wanted to identify and murder supernaturals, but a good chunk did.

Unfortunately for them, those that had emerged from the closet weren’t about to quietly go away.

Given the rising tension, the upcoming Atlantis ball would be more important than ever for me to gauge the mood of the different factions.

Was the world about to go to war over their right to exist? Or would humans and supernaturals band together in a fight against demons?

It would make for an epic movie if they did.

And here I’d let myself get distracted from my current task. Where were the demons coming from?

I’d researched them at length, poring through ancient tomes, dusty with age, the pages brittle, the writing faded. A fair amount of time had been spent online, searching through articles, but the information varied widely. There wasn’t one general consensus about demons. There were dozens, hundreds. Everyone had an opinion, but no one seemed to provide concrete fact.

Fact or fiction? It was thought you could only summon a demon through a serious of rituals.

Truth? I’d yet to speak to anyone who could confirm that worked. Possibly because stupidity got them killed.

Another fiction was that no one knew if the binding circles you saw in the movies worked to contain a demon. I liked to think they would because witches often used circles to protect themselves.

No matter who you were, wizard or witch, magic had to be wielded properly. The slightest misstep and bad things could happen. Marie-Anne never did grow back her hair.

While wizards could wield forces without outside help, witches had to rely on additional assistance, like a familiar—cats being the most popular—to focus. Wands or staffs were also quite common, and because our magic was more elusive, potions and ritual were of utmost importance.

The biggest question was, were we a match for demons?

The ones we’d encountered thus far were tough to beat, but so far, we’d prevailed. Against single demons. What would happen if we met several at once?

The Bibles showed Hell on Earth if the legion were to be unleashed.

They also depicted demons as towering, horned creatures. The demons we’d met up until now were hybrid creatures—half-demon, half-host body. Could they survive in our world without possessing someone or something?

Thus far, all the cases seemed to indicate the latter. The first cat case we’d become aware of—the one that ate its owner and her witchy friends, too—and then Peabody. The other cases I’d marked on the board also involved Earthly bodies taken over.

I only had a hunch so far, but it seemed to me the longer the demon hijacked a body, the more they could revert to their own form. Kind of like a werewolf, they could swap shapes at will.

Yet, not all of them could. Peabody never did manage to lose his human visage completely.

Could the reason be more nefarious than the length of their stay? Could the amount of magical blood they ingested—i.e., how many witches they ate—be the key to them being able to walk the Earth, terrorizing the innocent?

Morbid questions to be asking, but I wanted to know.

Leaning back in my chair, I spun around and sighed.

Then squeaked as a very male voice said, “Am I interrupting?”

Opening my eyes, I took a moment to gape at tall and sexy standing in my office door. “What are you doing here?” Why had he come to my office? By he, I meant the blond guy I’d bumped into at the TDCM.

How did he even know where to find me? We hadn’t exchanged names or anything else.

“I am hoping you’ll accept my invitation to dinner.”

Yes. Yes. My body said go for it, but my lips instead replied, “No.” I didn’t have time to go out for dinner with a super handsome guy.

I could almost hear my mother’s shocked voice, “Make time!”

Of course, I revised my decision when the man said, “Are you sure? Because I was under the impression you wished to remain informed about the progress of the demonic incursion investigation.”

My gaze narrowed. “What do you know about that?”

Then he floored me.

“I’m the man they put in charge of it.”