A few weeks passed, and the werewolves didn’t chase me down to give me a nibble, not even a single crotch sniff.

No more demons were sighted.

Not a single feline became possessed—although I had my suspicions about the cat lady on the third floor.

Life returned to normal.

Yay. Did you catch the huge amount of sarcasm in there?

Sighing, I tossed yet another ball of paper at the waste basket and missed. My level of boredom had hit epic heights. Part of it had to do with my best friend being busy with her boyfriends—doing the naked tango and couples dinners and probably shopping for matching shirts.

My spare time lately involved watching a lot of Netflix, trolling social media, cursing at Candy Crush, and eating. Going to work and the grocery store were probably the most exciting things I had going, and of the two, working as part of the secretarial pool had lost its shine.

It didn’t take much effort to blame the tedious job—type, type, answer the phone, type some more, and file—but the real truth was that ever since that bit of excitement a few weeks ago with the demon stalking Chloe—the lucky bitch—I’d found myself less than content.

And, no, my doldrums had nothing to do with the three guys I’d met a few weeks ago, who never once tried to call.

Who cared about three jerks who couldn’t see what an amazing catch I was? A better catch than any tennis ball, I might add.

Their loss.

Bastards.

However, they had nothing to do with my lack of desire to sort three piles of paper into neat bundles and staple them in the corners.

I wanted more excitement in my life.

No, make that needed something to give me a reason to bounce out of bed and have my neighbor below me pound on the ceiling with her cane.

With that thought in mind, I flounced into my BFF’s office—at the boring old department of justice building downtown—just before the whistle blew—a real one that I programmed as an alarm on my phone and that I’d filched from The Flintstones.

“Life blows hairy donkey balls,” I announced, flopping into the chair in front of Chloe’s desk.

Her office space wasn’t much better than mine. We both had standard-issue government desks with wobbly legs, and drawers that stuck, but where she’d gotten shoved into a tiny cubicle of an office, I was at least out in the secretarial pen. Think of a bunch of cattle in a square, sitting at desks, pretending to look busy, and you’d have us—with less mooing but more cackling.

Although the us was getting more masculine by the month. The shortage of bodies with a pair of X chromosomes meant more and more women chose to stay home, have babies, and let their husbands—yes, I said that in plural—take care of them.

Everyone wanted to do their part rebuilding the world’s female population—and cash in on the tax breaks.

Except for me.

Even my BFF Chloe had finally succumbed to a pair of hunks crazy about her, and I imagined it wouldn’t be long before she announced she was pregnant with a litter of puppies.

I couldn’t wait to present her with a T-shirt that said Future Dictator and had an arrow pointing at her belly. Studies said if you raised a kid to think big things, they would do big things.

Which made me wonder what happened to me? Meemaw always told me I’d kick ass in the world if I wasn’t afraid to try.

Well, hello, not afraid over here, and yet life kept passing me by.

“What are you thinking? I can hear the gears in your mind churning. That’s never a good thing,” Chloe said.

“I was imagining you pregnant.”

“What?” Good thing Chloe didn’t have anything in her mouth. As it was, I practically felt the fine spray of spittle as she shouted, “I’m not pregnant. Nor do I plan to be.”

“Are you telling me you’re using rubbers every time?”

“Mostly.” At my arched brow, she shrugged. “Okay, maybe not so much. But we’ve been tested. We’re clean. And I’m on the pill.”

“A human pill,” I muttered ominously. “You’re sleeping with a vampire and a werewolf. What makes you think they don’t have super sperm?” Wearing little capes, bulleting their way toward the egg, determined to save the world by impregnating my friend.

“Can vampires even make babies?” she asked. Her face adopted a slightly horrified expression. “Would a vampire baby suck my blood from the inside?”

Sounded familiar, probably because I saw it in a movie. In reality, while a whole bunch of bogeymen came out of the closet, vampires didn’t. Go figure, the one creature everyone kind of believed in didn’t want the world to know for sure.

But I knew because Chloe didn’t keep secrets from me.

Now if only I were a better friend and she knew the truth about me.

I’m not the hot commodity you think I am. In truth, I was the sad loser friend, the duff who couldn’t keep a man.

“Anthony’s not a sadistic prick. I doubt he would impregnate you with a life-sucking leech without telling you. But, if it makes you feel better, if you should die from a parasite eating its way out of your stomach, I will avenge you.” I kept a stake sharpened under my pillow and a revolver loaded with silver. And, unlike the crew of The Walking Dead, I didn’t have some tiny little knife that would force me to get close to a zombie. I had a three-foot machete.

When, not if, the apocalypse came, I would face it properly armed.

“Thank you, I think.” Chloe bit her lower lip. “Perhaps it’s time the boys and I chatted about the birds and the bees.”

“Why? Let nature take its course and don’t worry. If it happens, it will be great. Any kid you birth is bound to be cute. Have you seen the prospective fathers?” I rolled my eyes and laughed.

Any babies born of Chloe and her men would have a cocktail of awesomeness in their veins. And Chloe would have all the support she needed. I could just imagine how much her lovers would mollycoddle her if she carried their future namesake in her tummy.

Lucky bitch. I could only hope to aspire to that kind of awesome devotion. Men tended to be thrown off by my rather upfront nature. They also labeled me aggressive, bossy, demanding, and scary.

Pussies.

But at least they all agreed I was cute before dumping me, which, in turn, forced me to hurt them. Meemaw always said, “If he doesn’t see what a treasure you are, then punch him.” Literally.

I couldn’t pine after a guy who collapsed and cried after I dropped him. None of the men I met could handle me.

None until recently.

Dale didn’t fall when I attacked him. An insidious reminder that Dale had barely flinched when I went rabid squirrel on him.

In my defense, he had backup.

One on one, I could take him, all of them.

Could have. Par for the course, I never heard from or saw them again.

“Why do you look so blue?” Chloe asked. “Is it because I’ve got to miss TGIF tonight?”

Way to remind me. “I can’t believe you’re ditching an evening of large tropical drinks in unnaturally fluorescent colors adorned with cherries and umbrellas to go see a movie.”

“Not just any movie. Anthony is taking me to see the latest Planet of the Apes movie.” Her hands clapped excitedly, and her eyes shone with delight. Chloe had a thing for cheesy flicks.

“Instead of going tonight, you could go for a matinee tomorrow. It will be less crowded.”

“Crowds aren’t an issue. Anthony buys the seats all around so no one can sit in them.”

“I assume it’s because all those yummy heartbeats make him hungry?” I asked.

Chloe’s mouth rounded. “Of course not. He just doesn’t like people that close to me in public. Especially since he likes to, um, er, you know, during the movie.”

“Do what?” I asked innocently. I could easily guess, but it was fun to see my best friend blush and squirm. At least someone was having a good time.

“Things.” Said with bright red cheeks.

“Ugh, I can’t believe you’d pass on free drinks and dancing for an orgasm in public.” There might have been a hint of jealousy on my part in there.

“Guilt-trip me all you like, but now that I’m kind of taken, isn’t it false advertising for me to hang out in a singles bar?”

“Oh, please, like some of those guys aren’t already hooked up and just looking for an extra piece of action.”

“I get enough action. So much action,” she cooed, deliberately needling me.

I loved it. About time she found her own inner strength.

Sad as it made me, I was happy to see Chloe entering a new chapter of her life, one that involved less of me. She deserved a chance to build a family, birth a legacy, and I wasn’t about to get in her way. A real friend would set me up, though. “So, Anthony, no brother, hunh?” Being an old vampire, he kind of outlived his family.

A shake of her head. “Nope. Sorry. I asked. Just like he doesn’t know any other vampires he’d trust you with.”

Nice to know he wanted to keep me alive. It wouldn’t stop me from staking him if he ever hurt Chloe, though.

“And what about Fido?” Pete and I had an odd relationship. I asked him all kinds of questions, and he got flustered and found reasons to leave. What kind of man didn’t have a yes or no answer for, “do you prefer it doggy style?”

Chloe shrugged. “I bugged him, but Pete says all the guys he knows are dogs.”

Wolves, but no point in quibbling. I’d met some of his friends, and apparently, I wasn’t their version of an irresistible Scooby snack.

“Well, surely you know someone.” For a moment, my desperation came through, and I hoped she didn’t hear it. I’m supposed to have my shit together. Don’t lose it now.

“I wish I knew someone so we could double date.”

“By double date, I am going to assume we’re not swapping keys.”

It took Chloe a moment. “Brenda! We are not swapping boyfriends.”

“You say that now, but wait until you see my next one…”

“Only one? Don’t tell me you’re going to go old school.”

For some reason, I thought of a trio of men I wouldn’t mind calling my own.

However, since I couldn’t snare one, what hope did I have of nabbing three?

“Speaking of dudes I can date, what about the guy who just left?”

“You mean my client, Mr. Peabody?” Chloe squeaked his name. “Did you not see the handcuffs?”

“A little bondage never hurt anyone.” Unless they tied up a girl and didn’t put out. “So, is he single?”

“Brenda, don’t even kid like that. You can do much better than that.”

No, apparently I couldn’t. But even I should have standards.

While looks weren’t everything, Mr. Peabody lacked any pretty features and any kind of suave confidence. A gangly fellow with rounded shoulders, a sallow complexion, and a few ginger strands combed over a shiny white pate.

A guy with swagger could overcome many physical issues. Bad hair, annoying laugh, pot belly, bad taste in movies, but a dude who lacked looks and attitude?

I’d put out an ad in the paper first.

Desperate chick needs a man, preferably one who doesn’t understand English.

“What was he in here for? Peeping Tom?” He looked the creepy type to grip a windowsill and stare over the ledge. “Wearing a trench coat and flashing his junk?” Put it away. No one wanted to see that.

“Actually, it’s more fucked up than that. Mr. Peabody is accused of trying to set his house on fire, while his family was sleeping inside.”

“Doesn’t sound too fucked up to me. Arsonist and murderer. Happens all the time.” As a secretary for the state’s legal department, stuff came across my desk all the time. The most common being crimes of passion—if I can’t have you, no one can. Closely followed by cases of the crazy-voices-made-me-do-it variety.

After a while, you became numb to it. Cynical about the evil of mankind. It was probably why I had less of a problem with Chloe’s animal boyfriends than she had at first. I saw the reports on monsters every day, and they were human.

Chloe tapped the folder sitting atop her desk. “Mr. Peabody is actually being charged with attempted murder. But I’ve requested a mental evaluation. They’re taking him over to the institution right now. Either Peabody has a few screws loose, or there is something truly whacked out happening at his house.”

“Whacked out how? What’s he claiming?”

“Peabody claims his house is alive and that it possessed his family.” Chloe swirled a finger alongside her head in a universal nutjob sign.

“His house is haunted?” Interest piqued, I sat up.

“Haunted. Possessed. Evil.” Chloe shrugged. “Peabody says he tried getting it exorcised. It failed.”

More and more interesting. “Did the priest start speaking in strange tongues? Spewing ectoplasmic vomit?”

“No idea. No one knows what happened, so Mr. Peabody is being investigated for the cleric’s disappearance as well.”

“That scrawny dude killed a priest?”

“He claims the house ate him. Then turned his family against him, which is why Peabody tried to burn the house down. He wanted to cleanse them with fire.”

“Dude, that is like an epic case.”

“Epic if it were true. I haven’t verified any of his claims yet. Which is why we’re having him evaluated.”

“If it does turn out he’s crazy, is he going to have to stay in the loony bin?”

“Awhile, but worst part is”—Chloe leaned forward and lowered her voice—“I kind of believe him. Which is why I’m sending a copy of the case over to TDCM.”

“Oooooh.” For those that never ran into them before, TDCM stood for the Thaumaturgic Department for the Concealment of Magic. A secret investigative organization run by none other than wizards. Most humans didn’t know the TDCM existed.

But I was special.

And bored.

I leaned forward and slapped my hands on the desk. “Let me in on it.”

“What?”

“Please, Chloe. I am tired of typing up boring briefs and filing stupid paper that’s just going to be shredded in a few years.”

“But that’s what your job is. You’re not a cop.”

“Neither is Frederick”—the office brown nose—“and he’s always running around for you guys, tracking down shit. Plus, he’s human.”

“So are you.”

“I am pretty sure I was a mermaid in another life, which means I should be the one working on this case, not Frederick. He doesn’t know what to look for. You know he’ll ignore anything magical that he comes across.”

“Valid point.” Chloe’s lips twisted as she mused over my argument.

I prodded some more. “With my open mind, I’m more likely to see stuff, things that might prove your client innocent.”

“The wizards can probably find magic stuff more easily than you,” Chloe said gently.

“Maybe. But you need an impartial set of eyes and ears. Who better than me? You know I’ll tell you the truth. Plus, look at all the experience I have.”

“You’ve never dealt with a haunted house or possession before.” Chloe paused. “Have you?”

“No, but I’ve seen all the Amityville movies and the knock-offs. I can handle a spooky house. I need this.” Needed to do something that excited me.

“But it sounds dangerous. Didn’t you hear what Peabody claimed happened to the priest? The house ate him.”

I’d heard. Could anyone see the giddiness inside? “The real question is, did the priest enjoy it?”

“Brenda!”

“What?” I shrugged, a less than innocent expression on my face. “It’s a valid question. After all, the priest probably never gets any action. Holy vows and all that shit. Who’s to say he’s not having a grand ol’ time inside those walls?”

“You are one sick puppy, Brenda.”

“More like a bored and caged songbird who needs to fly free!” I flung out my arms and rapped my knuckles off a filing cabinet.

Damned small space.

“Let me do this,” I pleaded.

Chloe tapped a nail on the desk. “I am kind of swamped, and given Mr. Peabody is my client, I should keep an eye on what transpires. Both with the TDCM and the actual police department.”

“What? I could be working with cops?” My interest took off running and leaping. It expended itself in a bounce that caused the old chair I was sitting in to creak alarmingly. “Please, Chloe. Let me handle this.”

“If I do, you have to promise you won’t go to that house by yourself, just in case any of it is true.”

“If you insist, I’ll surround myself with at least a pair of men in uniform before going over to the house.” Oh, the hardship of being guarded by cops. The horror.

The possibilities…

The file slid across the desk, not so thick, yet filled with real crime scene notes, witness statements, all kinds of yummy stuff.

“You’ll have to do this on top of your regular stuff. You know how Craig is about losing a secretary for what he calls ‘unnecessary extras.’ But I will make sure you get paid overtime.”

Could this deal get any better?

Dye my hair red, throw me in a purple mini dress, and call me Daphne. I was going to crack this case.