In the year since her life was torn apart, Kit Colbana has slowly rebuilt herself.   There’s a promise of hope in the relationship with the alpha of the local shapeshifters and she no longer comes screaming into wakefulness.  Life’s not perfect but then again, when was it ever?

When her best friend Justin comes to her for help, there’s little question as to what her answer will be.  Witches are disappearing and Justin won’t rest until he has answers. Soon, they learn that it’s not just witches who’ve gone missing, but vampires and shifters, too.

Unlikely alliances are forged as Kit and Justin found themselves drawn into a twisted web of lies and betrayal.  As the clock counts down and the culprit behind recent disappearances is revealed, those Kit loves the most become the target of somebody who will kill to protect an ugly secret.

Excerpt

Prep could be a pain in the ass.  All the things necessary to get yourself ready, it was a nuisance that I would love to live without, but sadly, the kind of life I lead sometimes calls for prep.

Not that you can prepare for my life.

Not that I can prepare for my life.  The few times I tried, life went and kicked me in the face.

I’m learning, slowly, how to kick back.

I wouldn’t doing much kicking in the shoes I’d just slid onto my feet, though.  My balance is stellar, but it’s just plain stupid to go kicking at something when you’re standing on a spiked heel not much bigger than a toothpick.

Heels.

Shoot me now, I was wearing heels.

And what would probably be considered something sort of…dressy?

Maybe?

I don’t know.

It was a costume.

I’d never been to a costume party in my life and if I was smart, I would have said no to this one, but impulse sort of drives my life.

I’m Kit Colbana.  On just about any other day you could find me in a pair of battered jeans or black BDUs, a T-shirt and my vest.  My vest—man, I felt naked without it. I’d seen an old knife in a junk store once—it was called a Swiss Army knife and although the blade on it hadn’t been shit, the knife itself had been full of useful little gadgets.  Maybe not useful in my line of work, but for somebody who wasn’t crazy?  Yeah, pretty useful.  Scissors, screwdriver, tweezers, corkscrew…you never knew when you’d need a corkscrew.

The knife reminded me of my vest.

I could pull almost any damn thing out of my vest.

But that damn thing didn’t go with sparkly green.  And it was unlikely I’d need weapons.

Unlikely. That didn’t mean impossible.

But I was going to a party and I’d be with Damon.  So I guess in a way, I did have a weapon. He just walked and talked and grew fur and fangs.

Nerves fluttered in my stomach.

I was going on a date with Damon and I was wearing a dress and I wasn’t taking my weapons.

Panic seized me and I lunged for my trunk. No way, no how could I do this without some kind of weapon. My hands fumbled with the clasp and it only got worse as I thought about where the party was going to be, who—not a specific who but a who nonetheless—would be there.

It was a party thrown by the Assembly.  There would be vamps there.

I wanted to puke.

Something red caught my eye. Power zipped up my arm and I hissed, instinctively jerking my hand back, only to pause and reach for the blade more slowly.  It was a pretty piece and even years after its bearer had died, you could feel the power inside it.  Druids were rather famed for creating pieces of magic—relics even—that carried their magic inside them for decades, even centuries, after their deaths.

Most Druids worked with more…natural…mediums.  Wood, for example.  I’d once seen a Druid’s staff and I’d coveted it so badly, I had sketched out plans to steal it.

But it was on display in the Smithsonian.

I’m greedy, but I’m not stupid.

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