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Chapter 1: I was only halfway through my prime rib when the door burst open and Andrew Brooks erupted into the restaurant, disturbing the dozen or so diners enjoying their Friday night fare, and dragging a wilting human behind him. He fixed his icy glare on Maven and stalked toward us. Maven regarded the wizard with red-haloed eyes, flicking his dark hair in mild irritation. My higher vampire boyfriend flouted authority every chance he got, which was the reason we’d met here, at an ordinary restaurant frequented by Normals, rather than one of the dozens of superior eateries in the subrealm. No Untouched chef can sear a steak quite like a goblin rôtisseur, except perhaps Gordon Ramsay, and he’s probably one-quarter orc anyway. Andy Brooks, the wizard-with-a-conscience, might have been good-looking if his mouth wasn’t always so twisted and ugly. His blond hair was cropped short in a military cut, and there was no denying the breadth of his shoulders. And yet, that hideous snarl. “Can I help you, Officer?” Maven asked, with an air of icy indifference. Andy shoved the dazed man in the direction of our table, causing a few patrons to gasp and rubberneck. “I found this in the alley outside, Maven,” he snapped. “Care to explain yourself?” The symbiotic relationship Maven enjoyed with the Seattle Police Department was tempered only by the likes of Andy, who was planted by the council to destroy any evidence that might lead to a supernatural arrest. He reported directly to my grandmother, who served on the regional council – a group of six witches and wizards from powerful bloodlines responsible for maintaining order within the state. Not to be confused with the Manhattan Council, with a capital C for commanders-in-chief. Lording over all regional councils, the Manhattan Council was the highest authority in the realm. Working with Normals was something no self-respecting wizard would ever do by choice, but Andy hadn’t exactly been asked. Brooks took his job far too seriously, and he had an intense distrust of vampires, having had to clean up after them for most of his working life. Maven’s blatant disregard for council rules got him particularly hot under the collar. “Up,” Andy barked. “I’m taking you in.” Maven didn’t move. The pale man collapsed to his knees beside our table. There were two puncture wounds on his neck, and from the state of him, I’d say Maven might’ve taken more blood than he needed to. I averted my eyes. Andy didn’t miss it. “Does this bother you, Grayer?” he challenged. “Because it should. You’re one of us – you’re supposed to protect innocent people from them.” He gestured at Maven and I heaved a sigh. Wizards were so predictable. They always expected me to side with them. I pointed at my chest and fixed him with a bored gaze. “Hybrid, remember?” Ordinarily, witches and vampires would never interbreed, but my mother had fallen briefly and impulsively in love with my father, who happened to be a vampire. My mother’s transgressions were not without consequence. Disownment, dishonor, and death by natural causes had followed suit, but not before she’d had me: a hybrid witch-vampire with daddy issues, a penchant for rare steak, and a deep and abiding aversion to the rules. Andy’s face was a determined grimace. “Still playing Switzerland, then,” he scoffed. “You know, Grayer, one day you’re actually going to have to pick a damn side.” I didn’t bother disagreeing. Instead, I set down my fork and slid my plate to one side. Maven’s eyes were glittering, a storm brewing. All around us, patrons were staring. A gangly teen pulled out his cell phone and started recording. “You should get out of here, Andy,” I said, keeping my tone light. “You’re attracting a lot of attention. I’m pretty sure that goes directly against your orders.” Andy’s eyes cut straight to the teen’s phone. “Rumpis,” he whispered, so softly that only we could hear him. I felt the magic flutter past my shoulder, teasing, as though I could reach out and snatch it from the air. A heartbeat later, the teen blinked at his screen, frowned, and started to tap futilely at the device. “That’s an iPhone 11 you just destroyed,” Maven drawled. “Aversum.” Andy’s distraction spell worked instantly, and the patrons went back to their conversations, all thoughts of our conflict forgotten. The elderly man at the nearby table frowned at his empty fork in confusion. Beads of sweat broke out on Andy’s brow. “You can’t hold on to all of them,” I told him firmly. “You should go.” “Not without him,” he said, setting his hand on Maven’s shoulder. I saw only a flash of silver and heard Maven’s pained exhalation before I was on my feet. “Oh no, you don’t,” I growled, my hand reaching for Andy. The second my fingers brushed his arm, he gave a cry of pained surprise. He buckled beside Maven’s victim, weak and helpless as the human. All around, people stopped to stare again, Andy’s spell broken.