I’d finally come to grips with the fact that not all supernaturals are a**holes when the witch downstairs is murdered and I’m rescued from certain death by the fae assassin responsible for revealing the existence of supernaturals to humans six months ago.
That’s not the best bit though.
Said fae wants me and my partner to look into the death of his niece, and he made us an offer we can’t refuse…
Just like in a bad mob movie.
Clandestine groups, magical artifacts and a growing headache, all I want to do is get into my fuzzy unicorn pajamas and crawl into bed. Like hell that’s going to happen anytime soon.
Bad Witch
Chapter One
Tell me if you’ve heard this one before…
You come home from therapy and there’s a vampire at the door.
No?
I guess it only happens to me.
I slowed my steps as I approached my apartment, questions swirling around my head. Alistair de Champ turned when I was about ten feet away, his green eyes glowing in the artificial light of the hallway. At first glance, he looked like any other human would. On closer inspection, though, there was a layer of danger that surrounded him, and right now, my primitive brain was screaming at me to run.
Run like fucking Forrest.
I didn’t want a vampire at my front door, and I certainly didn’t want one inside my apartment. Moving closer, he seemed to stop breathing… well, maybe not breathing. He was a vampire, after all, but he did become very, very still.
Coming to a stop a healthy distance away, I swallowed. “I didn’t take you for a Girl Scout.” I made a show of glancing around at his feet. “No Thin Mints?”
He flashed me a fang-filled smile that I guessed he thought was comforting, but it only made me want to hide under my bed. As I waited for him to tell me what he was doing there, I let my eyes drift down his body, taking in the expensive charcoal gray suit, the crisp white dress shirt and his blood-red tie.
Hello, vampire movie cliché!
Jogging the keys in my hand for a moment, I began walking again. I hadn’t seen him in a little over two weeks, not since my partner Sawyer and I went to visit his mistress on the hunt for information about a ticked off vampire who had it in for me.
Yup, just another day in the life of Cat McKenzie.
“Mind telling me what you’re doing here?” I asked cautiously.
His eyes drifted to the brace on my knee outside my jeans. Dammit, I hated to show weakness, especially to a supe.
“I have a message to deliver.”
“Ever heard of a phone?”
He smiled without warmth. “It’s not that kind of message.”
“Okay, well, I’m here. What’s the message?”
Alistair stared at me with all the emotion of a hungry shark. “Perhaps I should come in. I doubt you’d want your neighbors to overhear the conversation.” When he saw me hesitate, he added, “I swear no harm will come to you by my hand if that is what’s concerning you.”
“A lot of things concern me,” I replied curtly. “Teenage pregnancy. Gen Z’s obsession with vanity, selfies and IG filters. Running out of toilet paper during a zombie apocalypse. Just don’t expect me to offer you a drink.” When I slid the key into the lock, the teeth chattered along the tumbler, echoing like gunshots in my ears…
Or my death knells.
Christ, I hoped I was doing the right thing.
I stepped inside, placing my keys onto the hook on the wall, but Alistair stayed exactly where he was. Staring at me.
“Are you just going to stand there all night?”
“I can’t come in until you invite me.”
I bit my tongue to stop myself from laughing. “Seriously? That’s a legitimate rule?”
“Unfortunately.”
Peering over at the couch, I saw my back-up plan—Reaver—propped up against the arm. It was a perplexing sword that seemed to be rather attached to me, following me around and showing up whenever I really needed it. I’d unwittingly whet with my blood, causing it to become even more attached to me.
Content that the mysterious angel sword had my back against the big bad vampire, I swept my arm out in an overly exaugurated welcoming gesture. “Then please, won’t you come in.”
The vampire bobbed his head in thanks, his blond curls voluminous and dancing around his head. I wondered what kind of shampoo he used because his hair was ah-mazing. He held his breath as he stepped over the threshold like he was expecting to spontaneously burst into flames or something. When he didn’t become a fireball, I closed the door behind him.
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of you showing up on my doorstep like a stray dog?” I asked, wandering into the kitchen. I pulled open the cutlery drawer and took out a wooden spoon. Shoving it handle-first into my knee brace, I groaned in relief as I scratched the itch that had been bothering me all day long.
I’d hurt it two weeks ago trying to find out who was making baby vampires. My shoulder—which I’d injured when my truck was hit by a semi, with me in it—had come out of the sling about a week ago. Aside from some stiffness, I was healing well.
The vampire’s upper lip screwed up in distaste as I jettisoned the cooking utensil on the counter and shuffled toward the fridge.
“I’m going to pretend you used another simile.”
I made a waving motion with my hand. “Go right ahead, but know that in here…” I tapped my temple with my index finger, “… I’m imagining you as a cute little teacup pug.”
He actually growled at me. “My mistress sent me.”
I paused as I reached for a bottle of water. Roxanne Monroe, mistress of the Buxton Vampire Kiss, was one of those supes who scared my extra pair of big girl pants off of me. “What does she want?”
Alistair slowly walked around my apartment, stopping to look at some of my
