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.

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.

Okay, I might be seriously under-qualified for the job of Enforcer, I'll admit. The Enforcer is supposed to be a human, for starters. It's usually an ex-special forces guy with big muscles and even bigger balls, and a knack for sorting out petty squabbles between the witches and vampires and shifters in the city. And I'm just a technically dead nail tech—an animated skeleton with a talent for illusion magic and gold gel manicures. But I've recently discovered that I can manifest some pretty big muscles of my own. I've already got the big balls, so I'm halfway there.

Someone paid the vampire king’s creepy son to turn me into one of the bitey undead. I’m not hanging about to find out who or why. The vampires want me to stay with them for one hundred years of indentured servitude but I have this thing about following orders so I ran from the streets of London to the wilds of Alaska. I have an eidetic memory and a can-do attitude. I can-do anything to get away from the vampire king. So when the Sheriff of Portlock, a hidden paranormal town, invites me to be his assistant, I say sure thing. It beats servitude hands down.

I'm the local bed and breakfast owner who offers extras such as supernatural autopsies and burials, earning me the title of The Undertaker. A string of murders brings the lord of the shifters and the vampire prince to my door. Together we take on the evil lurking in the shadows. But as we draw closer to the truth, they begin to unpick my secrets, which I must protect with my life. Pity they have the best senses in town.

When my most hated enemy, Bastion, comes to me for help I tell him to take a long walk off a short pier. I’m not helping the griffin assassin that once killed my lover. But when the Crone visits my coven, she tells me that I have to help him find his daughter or else I won’t achieve my full potential.

Immortality sucks. Just ask Imogen Gray—over two hundred thousand years old and teetering on the edge of total insanity. All throughout history, she's been hunted by an ancient creature who finds her and rips her to pieces every time she dares to access her deepest powers. But Imogen always regenerates. Slowly. Painfully.

Arwen Forester may be a socially awkward introvert, but she’s an expert tracker, archer, and forager who has a pickling recipe for every vegetable in the garden. Unfortunately, none of these skills earn her a lot of money. And when the taxes go up on her father’s farm, she’s not sure how to help him keep the property. Then someone offers her a lucrative new gig: Hunt down a haughty half-dragon criminal with the power to incinerate those who irritate him.

Everyone’s welcome at the Stag—vampire, wolf or human. As long as they don’t make trouble. Or ask too many questions about what we’re selling out of the back room. I keep the beers coming, and in return the town keeps my secret. But when a gang of deadly vampires shows up at the bar, it’s clear they’re not looking for a drink. They want to take my business. Or my blood. But this is more than just a shake down. All over town, people are dropping like flies. Disappearing or attacking their neighbors. It’s like they’re possessed. And someone—or something—is pulling the strings.

After the Final War, after the appearance of the Bug aliens and their enforced peace, Shining Smith is still alive, still doing business from the old scrapyard bequeathed to her by her father. But Shining is now something more than human. And the scrapyard is no longer just a scrapyard, but a place full of secrets. This life she has built, while empty, is predictable and safe. Until the only friend left from her previous life shows up, dead, in the back of a scrapped Tesla warplane. Clutched in her cold fingers is a note to Shining - warning her of a coming attack.