If you’d asked me a week ago, I would have told you that the best cupcakes were dark chocolate with chocolate cream cheese icing, that dancing in a crowd of magic wielders—the Adept—was better than sex, and that my life was peaceful and uneventful. Just the way I liked it. That’s what 23 years in the magical backwater of Vancouver will get you—a completely skewed sense of reality. Because when the dead werewolves started showing up, it all unraveled—except for the cupcake part. That’s a universal truth.

They called me an amplifier. And they had bred me, raised me, and trained me to be a killer with preternatural precision. I was capable of taking, holding, and transferring power that wasn’t my own with a simple touch. Skin-to-skin contact. Along with four others of my generation, I could infiltrate any magical organization, extracting whoever or whatever I’d been ordered to extricate. Then I could destroy all evidence of our passing presence. They had made me. They directed me. Controlled me. Then they tried to kill me.

I preferred it when life came in tidy packages. When it didn’t — when something went awry — I was exceedingly skilled at packaging it back up. It was my job to do so after all. I was a reconstructionist. I collected the puzzle pieces, then I gave those pieces to an investigative team to sort out. I didn't ask questions. I didn't offer answers. I saw. I recorded. I moved on. I didn't dwell or obsess. I didn’t hunt down suspects. I didn’t follow clues to find a killer. And I certainly didn’t work side by side with anyone.

The day I turned 19, I expected to gain what little freedom I could within the restrictions of my bank account and the hallucinations that had haunted me for the last six years. I expected to drive away from a life that had been dictated by the tragedy of others and shaped by the care of strangers. I expected to be alone. Actually, I relished the idea of being alone. Instead, I found fear I thought I'd overcome and terror that was more real than anything I'd ever hallucinated before. I'd seen terrible, fantastical, and utterly impossible things...but not love. Not until I saw him.

The plan was to hop a train to Oslo, hang out at a coffee shop, and connect my personal archive, Infinity, to the Internet. Yes, completely disregarding the well-established fact that magic and technology didn’t mix. At all.

Well, to be honest, there are lots of killers in this town, including me. But when a handful of supernaturals in Castlemaine go missing and start showing up dead with strange amputations and odd lacerations all over their bodies, the magical townsfolk start to get very nervous. Whoever the killer is, he's after one of my new friends. I'm determined to stop him. But first, I have to figure out a way of escaping the Ironclaw pack. Braxton Myles, the Alpha of Ironclaw, has taken me hostage as compensation for losing a few of his werewolves in a fight with my goose buddy, Dwayne.

Few people know the name Vesper Quill. To most folks, I’m just a lowly lab rat who designs brewmakers and other household appliances in the research-and-development lab at the powerful Kent Corp. But when I point out a design flaw and a safety hazard in the new line of Kent Corp spaceships, everyone knows who I am—and wants to eliminate me. I might be a seer with a photographic memory, but I don’t see the trouble headed my way until it’s too late. Suddenly, I’m surrounded by enemies and fighting for my life.

The horror of waking up from the best dream ever and remembering you're a monster is indescribable. My soul is screaming for mercy, for forgiveness, for redemption…but I know I'll never get it.

Nora Devi is a xeno-archaeologist with a complicated past. She has buried more secrets than she’s dug up. Widowed in the recently ended twelve year war between Capitoline and Palantine, she now makes a living as an independent tagger in border space. Captain Liam Kimani could be credited with ending the latest royal war. Instead, he’s blamed for it. Dirty commoners aren’t meant to lay their hands on royalty. He has no regrets.

Petra Grady has known since adolescence that she has no talent for magic—and that’s never going to change. But as a sweeper first-class, she’s parlayed her rare ability to handle dross—the damaging, magical waste generated by her more talented kin’s spellwork—into a decent life working at the mages’ university. Except Grady’s relatively predictable life is about to be upended.

Kira Forrest is a survivor. She's risen above the pain of her beginnings to become a war hero only to leave it all behind in the pursuit of a simple life. Now a salvager, she makes a living sifting through the wreckage of dead alien ships from a war that nearly brought humanity to its knees. After her ship takes damage, she's forced to re-route to a space station where her past and present collide with dangerous consequences. Kira's existence holds the key to a faltering peace treaty with the Tuann - a technologically advanced alien race who dislikes and distrusts all humans.

It's not as great as you'd think, living in a tourist town that's known as "the most magical place in America". Same boring high school, just twice as many monsters under the bridges and rival Families killing each other for power. I try to keep out of it. I've got my mom's bloodiron sword and my slightly illegal home in the basement of the municipal library. And a couple of Talents I try to keep quiet, including very light fingers and a way with a lock pick.

There are three absolutes in Mairi Wallace's world: 1. The Mages rule every city in Scotland with terrible, violent authority. 2. It is not physically possible for any woman to wield magic. 3. Mairi does not have a voice. She is about to learn that none of these things have to be true. From twisted wynds and tartan shops to a dangerous daemon and malevolent ravens, the future of a tattered nation might lie with one solitary woman.

Things go from bad to worse when I get a summons to attend the vampire king’s court, where I get my marching orders. I’m given one lousy week to get my affairs in order, and then I’m to present myself to the conclave to commence my hundred years of indentured servitude, where I get to learn Vampire 101.

So here’s the deal—I’m a magical disaster. A witch from a family of witches, and the only one whose magic blows up in her face. Which is why I came up with my rules....