Libby is a mutant, one of the top burglars and assassins in the world. For a price, she caters to executives’ secret desires. Eliminate your corporate rival? Deliver a priceless art masterpiece or necklace? Hack into another corporation’s network? Libby’s your girl. Climate change met nuclear war, and humanity lost. The corporations stepped in, stripping governments of power. Civilization didn’t end, but it became less civilized. There are few rules as corporations jockey for position and control of assets and markets.

When my magic manifested at puberty, my parents sold me to the Illuminati. The Order of the Illuminati trained me as an assassin, spy, and thief. But when they sent me to steal a magical artifact that reveals Truth in all things, I discovered that I was working for the Dark and not the Light. The Illuminati trained me well, and paid the ultimate price for their deception.

My name is Danica James. I'm a cop with the Arcane Division. Most mages have the ability to manipulate the elements - fire, water, air, earth, electricity. My magic only works on machines and electrical devices. They call me a magitek. That doesn't help much with demons and vampires, let alone criminals with lethal magikal powers.

When a man came into my shop in the Great Marketplace at the Crossroads of the Worlds and tried to kill me, it completely ruined my day. Not only did I have to clean up the blood, but disposing of his body made me late to meet my friends for drinks. A nagging little detail kept bugging me, though. As he died, he said he was hired by my mother's family—people I hadn't seen for more than a decade. Then I discovered that assassins had made attempts on my brother and sister as well. As much as I didn't want to, I decided I should find out who wanted us dead, and put a stop to it.

When a jaguar shifter drops in and asks for help in tracking down an ancient blood-magic statuette, I say no thank you. I learned a long time ago the key to survival is keeping a low profile. But it's hard to ignore an artifact of the gods powerful enough to blow holes in reality. Enter stalker werewolves in a black Mercedes and magicians trying to capture me. They all think I know where the damned statue is. Then I'm attacked by demons. It wouldn't be so bad, but some of them are really rude. Being rude is a capital crime where I come from. Time for a lesson in manners.

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

I’m Val Thorvald, and I’m an assassin. When magical bad guys hurt people, I take care of them. Permanently. This doesn’t make me popular with the rest of the magical community — as you can tell from the numerous break-ins and assassination attempts I’ve endured over the years. But thanks to my half-elven blood, a powerful sword named Chopper, and a telepathic tiger with an attitude, I’ve always been able to handle my problems with aplomb. Maybe some cursing and swearing, too, but definitely aplomb.

In a world where magic and science sit side by side, and powerful witches are considered necessary aides for all governments, Lizzie Grace is something of an outlier. Though born into one of the most powerful blue blood witch families, she wants nothing to do with either her past or her magic.

I’m one placement away from becoming a fully fledged London detective. It’s bad enough that my last assignment before I qualify is with Supernatural Squad. But that’s nothing compared to what happens next. Brutally murdered by an unknown assailant, I wake up 12 hours later in the morgue - and I’m very much alive. I don’t know how or why it happened. I don’t know who killed me. All I know is that they might try again.

A deadly assassin. A desperate witch. A past that won’t stay buried. I’m Amber DeLea—ambitious witch, potion mistress extraordinaire, and daughter to a woman slipping further away each day. My life is a constant battle, whether it’s cursed runes, treacherous coven politics, or dark forces closing in. But nothing haunts me more than my mother’s unravelling mind, and I’m running out of time to find a cure. The last thing I need is Bastion—the deadly griffin assassin who shattered my world—being ordered to protect me.

I have family I didn't know about, a magical heritage laying its claim, and a mystery I apparently need to solve. But when a back-alley brawl leaves me marked with a bizarre Celtic crest on my back, I become a beacon for all things whacked and weird.

Welcome to The Slaughtered Lamb Bookstore and Bar. I'm Sam Quinn, the werewolf book nerd in charge. I run my business by one simple rule: Everyone needs a good book and a stiff drink, be they vampire, wicche, demon, or fae. No wolves, though. Ever. I serve the supernatural community of San Francisco. We've been having some problems lately. Okay, I'm the one with the problems. The broken body of a female werewolf washed up on my doorstep. What makes sweat pool at the base of my spine, though, is realizing the scars she bears are identical to the ones I conceal.

What you thought you knew about vampires and werewolves is wrong...so very, very, wrong. A thousand years of effort to keep the Unknown World hidden is unraveling and the Patriarch is tired. He needs to find someone to take over. He finds Bethany Anne.

As a bookish, introverted database programmer, Morgen Keller never thought she was a candidate for a midlife crisis. That was before her husband divorced her, her boss let her go, and her grandmother died. Forty wasn’t supposed to look like this. When Morgen heads up to the small town of Bellrock, Washington, to settle the estate, she looks forward to taking a peaceful break from life and figuring out what she’s going to do next. But peace isn’t to be had.

Reports to write, forms to fill, coffee to drink, leads to run down. Gus’s life was a tedium and boredom he’d grown comfortable with. One that he sought out after he’d come back from his tour of duty. A detective in the paranormal investigations department. A job he could work day in and day out in relative peace. One cold and forgotten cup of coffee at a time. It was an environment that made some sense to him. At least in comparison to civilian life where almost nothing did. On top of that, it gave him a chance to hide what he was from the rest of the world.