Two things are impossible to walk away from: death and vintage clothing. Trust me. I've tried. Moving across the country and opening a costume shop was supposed to be my chance for a normal life. What I wanted was a fresh start, one where the biggest danger would be a carelessly wielded sewing needle. What I got was the ghost of a murdered reporter demanding justice, a power I can’t control, and a new goat-shifter BFF hell-bent on trouble.

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 was kept ignorant and sheltered my whole life. Now that I’m free, I’ll never be coddled again. Even if the smoking hot werewolf king thinks coddling is perfectly acceptable. Because something’s hunting humans in my city. Something that kills like a werewolf, but displays those kills publicly–as if taunting the authorities.

Daisy Carter knows she's not anyone special. She might be brave and resourceful. She might possess a touch more magic than your average low elf. But, when it comes down to it, she's just another delivery driver trying to make a living. Admittedly, life would be easier without her addiction to a dangerous drug called spider's silk—but she's got her reasons for that. Nobody's perfect. However, Daisy's world changes when she crosses paths with Hugo Pemberville, the celebrated high elf who's well known for being an accomplished treasure hunter. 

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.