Laura Daleo is here to tell us about The Wolf Experiment, urban fantasy - werewolf.
There's also a great giveaway.
______________________
Urban Fantasy / Werewolf
Date Published: 01-23-2026
In Doford Peaks, a small mountain town, 19-year-old Ethan lives with his
grandma. His life is quite normal, at least as normal as it can be for someone
with asthma. A winter morning walk turns dramatic when he and his grandma
discover an 18-year-old girl, Mia, who is unconscious and injured. As Mia
recovers, bits of her past emerge, attracting agents Gibson and Cooper of the
Bureau of Supernatural Investigation (BSI). A complex web of secrets
associated with the Defense Forces of Genesis (DFOG) intertwines their fates.
As the truth emerges, Ethan and Mia must face the horrifying reality of The
Wolf Experiment.
About the Author
Laura Daleo is an accomplished multi-genre author
known for weaving captivating tales across dark fantasy, urban fantasy,
supernatural/paranormal, sci-fi, and young adult fiction. Her acclaimed
Immortal Kiss series showcases her unique take on vampiric lore, reimagining
the origins of vampires through the lens of the Egyptian pantheon. Originally
from San Diego, California, Laura now calls Tucson, Arizona home, where she
shares her life with her two beloved dogs, Rose and Cooper.
J.J. Hebert is here to tell us about The Breaking of Time, Chronicles of the Arvynth #1, urban fantasy.
There's also a great giveaway.
______________________
The Breaking of Time J.J. Hebert (Chronicles of the Arvynth, #1) Publication date: November 25th 2025 Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy
USA Today bestselling author J. J. Hebert’s brand-new urban fantasy series Chronicles of the Arvynth begins with The Breaking of Time, a novel about a devoted father whose desperate act to save his son fractures reality itself, awakening ancient magic and drawing him back into the path of an immortal order he once betrayed, where love, time, and silence collide in a race against eternity.
Mariel Hemingway’s Book Club Selection (Best Urban Fantasy):
“This novel is heartfelt, gripping, and memorable in all the best ways.” —Mariel Hemingway, Bestselling Author & Oscar-Nominated Actress ★★★★★
___
ONE FATHER’S DESPERATE CHOICE FRACTURES TIME AND REALITY ITSELF.
To everyone around him, Daniel Ward is a mild-mannered accountant, devoted husband and father in a quiet New England suburb. But when his ten-year-old son chases a runaway soccer ball into the street, straight into the path of a speeding truck, Daniel does the impossible. He freezes time.
That single act of defiance exposes the secret he’s buried for decades. His magic awakens the ancient order he once betrayed, the Arvynth, a brotherhood of immortal sorcerers devoted to stillness and death, determined to silence the world.
As his carefully constructed life unravels, Daniel must protect his family while evading the brotherhood that hunts him. Every second he steals from time feeds the void that seeks to consume it, threatening not only the people he loves but reality itself.
Forced to choose between sacrifice and survival, Daniel discovers the truth: sometimes the loudest act of love is defiance.
The Breaking of Time is a race against eternity, a supernatural thriller that fuses urban fantasy and family drama in a story about the noise of life, the cost of power, and one father’s desperate fight to keep the world from falling silent.
___
PRAISE FOR THE AWARD-WINNING URBAN FANTASY NOVEL THE BREAKING OF TIME:
“This work will grab readers’ attention early as Hebert combines a diverse array of genres—fantasy, thriller, family road novel, and others—into a fast-paced, character-driven adventure… An exciting, tightly written tale of magic… Our verdict: Get it.” —Kirkus Reviews
“The Breaking of Time is meticulously crafted to explore themes of love, loss, redemption, and the struggle to balance personal desires with greater responsibilities.” —BookLife/Publishers Weekly (EDITOR’S PICK)
“The Breaking of Time: Chronicles of the Arvynth delivers cinematic urban fantasy that bridges generations, echoing the mythic gravity and moral weight of J.R.R. Tolkien while unfolding within a sleek, contemporary world… This is prestige fantasy…” —Jesse Metcalfe, Award-Winning Actor ★★★★★
“An immersive paranormal thriller that balances the rich worldbuilding and in-depth lore characteristic of fantasy fiction with the all-too-human dramas of identity, family, and the consequences of secrecy.” —Independent Book Review (STARRED review)
“If you like magic that feels tactile and real, or if you enjoy emotional stakes wrapped inside supernatural danger, this book will hit the spot.” —Literary Titan★★★★★ (Gold Winner, Literary Titan Book Award: Fiction 2026)
“A smartly plotted supernatural thriller with a strong, charismatic protagonist to root for. A Wishing Shelf Recommended Read!” —The Wishing Shelf★★★★★
“A winning blend of the supernatural and family adventure that crackles with heart and imagination.” —BestThrillers ★★★★★
“A wonderfully complex dive into the world of fantasy… fast-paced, magical…” —Readers’ Favorite ★★★★★
I’ve spent years pretending to be someone I’m not.
The thought surfaces every morning when I shave, watching the face in the mirror—a face that should be ancient, centuries-old, but instead shows only the faint creases of a man in his early forties. A single gray hair at my temple that Elena keeps threatening to pluck. The kind of weathering that comes from the lost sleep of parenthood and mortgage payments, not from outliving empires.
To everyone else, I’m Daniel Ward—husband, father, the sort of man who mows the lawn on Saturdays and forgets garbage day at least twice a month. My neighbors wave when I’m pulling out the recycling bins, their smiles automatic and easy. Mrs. Dante from next door brings over her extra zucchini in late summer, always too much, always apologizing for the abundance. My coworkers at the accounting firm think I’m polite but quiet, the guy who keeps his head down and never complains about the coffee. My wife calls me dependable, though sometimes I catch a question in her eyes, a flicker of something she can’t quite name.
They all believe they know me.
They don’t.
The other man—the one buried under the flannel shirts and PTA meetings—still lurks somewhere beneath the surface. He’s the one who used to speak to the unseen currents of the world, who could twist wind and time if he chose, who once stood in a circle of elders and made the sky itself hold its breath. But I buried him twenty years ago, the day I first saw Elena across a crowded bookstore, her laugh carrying over the ambient music like a bell I didn’t know I’d been waiting to hear. I traded his power for peace, his truth for love, his ancient purpose for the warm weight of a child falling asleep on my chest. I told myself I could be normal, that five hundred and forty-three years of magic could be folded up and tucked away like old photographs in a drawer.
I even started to believe it.
Today was supposed to be an ordinary day. Another quiet Saturday, nothing more. But when does anything ever go as planned?
It was one of those deceptive autumn afternoons where New England shows off—sun bright and warm on the skin, gilding everything gold. The kind of day that makes you forget winter is coming. Trees along Brookfield Lane shed their red and gold. They carpeted the sidewalks in layers of crimson and amber, crunching underfoot like breaking glass. The whole world felt fragile, caught between seasons, holding its breath before the fall.
I stood at the end of our driveway, sipping coffee that had long gone lukewarm. The mug—a Father’s Day gift from three years ago with “World’s Coolest Dad” printed in fading letters—hung heavy in my hand, forgotten. I was watching the Hendersons’ cat stalk something invisible through their garden, its tail twitching with predatory focus, when Eli kicked his soccer ball a little too hard.
The sound was sharp—that hollow thwack of synthetic leather against a ten-year-old’s foot, released with more enthusiasm than aim. The ball bounced once, twice, then caught the curb at an angle and rolled into the street, picking up speed as it curved toward the stop sign at the corner.
Eli chased it before I could even form the word wait.
He wore his blue hoodie—the one with the frayed cuffs he refused to let Elena fix, the white stripes on the sleeves already graying from too many washes, and one drawstring longer than the other because he’d chewed on it during homework the night before. His sneakers were grass-stained, laces trailing, his gangly ten-year-old body a blur of elbows and knees as he ran with a reckless abandon only children possess. The kind of innocence that comes from not yet understanding that the world has teeth.
The ball slipped into the road, rolling lazily toward the middle of the lane. Eli followed without looking, without thinking, his whole world narrowed to that sphere of black and white pentagons.
And then I heard it.
An approaching car. Not the gentle whisper of someone cruising through the neighborhood, but the aggressive growl of speed—too much speed for a residential street. A truck came around the bend far too fast. The driver probably wasn’t paying attention, likely glancing at his phone or reaching for something on the passenger seat, thinking about anything but the quiet street where children played.
I felt my stomach drop, that vertiginous lurch that comes not from falling but from watching someone you love step off the edge.
The coffee mug slipped from my fingers, hitting the driveway with a dull crack. Coffee spread across the concrete in a dark stain that looked too much like blood.
“Eli!” I shouted. “Look out!”
He didn’t hear. The wind was wrong, carrying sound away from him, and he was bent over the ball now, just a few feet from the centerline, small hands reaching down to scoop it up. His hood had fallen back, revealing the stubborn cowlick at his crown that Elena had tried to smooth down this morning—the same stubborn swirl of hair I’d seen on Jonas five hundred years ago.
The driver saw him at the last minute—I could see the panic flash across his face through the windshield, his mouth opening in what might have been a shout or a curse. He tried to brake—the nose of the truck dipped as he slammed his foot down—but there wasn’t enough distance, not enough time.
The laws of physics are beautiful and merciless. Mass times velocity. Momentum conserved. A two-ton truck traveling at forty miles per hour needs approximately ninety feet to stop.
My son was thirty feet away.
The math was simple. The outcome inevitable.
Everything inside me fractured.
The years I’d spent pretending to be ordinary—gone, shattered like ice on pavement. The quiet life, the safe life, the carefully constructed fiction of Daniel Ward, the accountant—gone. Twenty years of restraint, of biting my tongue when the old words tried to surface, of letting the magic sleep dormant in my bones—all of it evaporated in the space between heartbeats.
My son was about to die, and the man I’d been pretending to be had no way to stop it.
The other man—the buried one—could.
It began as a vibration in my chest, not painful but insistent, like thunder humming before a storm breaks or the first tremor before an earthquake tears the world open. The sensation spread through my ribcage, resonating in the hollow spaces between bone, traveling down into my gut. My hands began to tingle, then burn, the old pathways of power waking, remembering their purpose.
The world thinned around me, like reality itself was just a membrane stretched too tight, waiting for permission to stop turning.
My vision sharpened with supernatural clarity—I could see each particle of dust hanging in the light, suspended like tiny stars. I could see the individual vibrations in the air, the way sound moves in waves, the molecular dance of oxygen and nitrogen. I could see the truck’s trajectory mapped out in lines of probability, see the exact angle at which metal would meet flesh, see the moment my son would stop being my son and become a memory, a ghost, another name added to the long list of those I’d failed to save.
The spell came unbidden to my lips, rising from a place deeper than thought, older than intention.
The syllables were hot and metallic on my tongue, tasting of copper and electricity, of blood and starlight. They weren’t English—weren’t any language spoken in many, many years.
They were Arvynth.
The old words.
The ones I’d sworn I’d never speak again.
“Fractura Tempora.”
The sound tore through the air like a blade through fabric, like lightning splitting the sky, like the world itself being unzipped at the seams.
And reality obeyed.
Author Bio:
J. J. Hebert is the #1 Amazon, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of eight books, including his acclaimed debut Unconventional and The Backwards K, which, according to Newsweek, is currently in development for film adaptation. His latest #1 bestsellers, both published in 2025, are The Breaking of Time: Chronicles of the Arvynth and The Hands-On Author: Taking Control of Your Book Marketing Journey. A lifelong New England resident, Hebert frequently weaves the region’s landscapes and atmosphere into his storytelling. He is also the award-winning CEO and Founder of MindStir Media, a leading hybrid book publisher. Join his community of over 2 million followers across Instagram, TikTok, Facebook, and X (formerly Twitter) @authorjjhebert.
Edgar Thorn is here to tell us about The Key Keeper's Secret, book 1 The Zoe Frost Chronicles, urban fantasy.
There's also a great giveaway.
______________________
Magic is real. Monsters are hungry. And Zoe Frost is already
marked.
The Key Keeper’s
Secret
The Zoe Frost Chronicles Book 1
by Edgar Thorn
Genre: Urban Fantasy
A Shadow demon tried
to kill me. Now it's master wants to finish the job...
I was just supposed to be going to the annual Magicians' Winter Charity Ball.
But pretty soon I was neck-deep in a world of murderous monsters, secret
societies, and time-travelling lunatics.
And if I can't figure out the truth, everyone I love is going to die.
With BFF Courtney by my side and boyfriend Blake showing his true colours, my
quiet weekend turned into a total nightmare. And somehow, it's only the
beginning...
The Key Keeper’s Secret kicks off The Zoe Frost Chronicles — a 13-book
series of fast, funny, magical short reads packed with danger, adventure, bad
guys, and monsters.
T.J. Deschamps is here to tell us about Wings and Fangs, Supernatural Legacies, urban fantasy.
Read on for details...
_______________________
Urban Fantasy
Date Published: October 31, 2025
Never wanted to be a cop. Definitely didn't want to work for an agency that
used to hunt monsters like me.
But when you're a wolf shifter who doesn't fit in your pack AND the daughter
of an archangel's son? Your career options are... limited.
So I joined I.S.E.A. as one of their first supernatural agents. Figured I'd be
dealing with easy cases forever.
Then the murders started.
Ritualistic. Brutal. All victims from Fenrir's bloodline…just like me.
Now my rookie partner Jada and I are racing to stop a cult that wants to
trigger Ragnarök. They're sacrificing wolves to level up and take on the
gods themselves.
Oh, and did I mention:
✨ Fenrir might be calling in my ancestor's debt
✨ My dad gave me his angelic war sword (she talks, it's annoying)
✨ A gorgeous Valkyrie keeps saving my life
✨ The fate of the world might rest on two rookies
No pressure, right?
WINGS AND FANGS is book one of the Supernatural Legacies
trilogy—grittier, wittier, and more action-packed than ever. Meet
Roxanne Crowfoot: wolf shifter, nephilim, and the agent who's about to save
(or doom) us all.
About the Author
T.J. Deschamps writes stories with diverse characters and subversive themes,
preferring flawed characters over the Chosen One types. She lives in the
Seattle suburbs with her three semi-adult children, three cats, and a
tortoise. Her hobbies include drinking copious amounts of coffee, reading,
playing word games, lifting weights, gardening badly, and dancing.
Eric Avedissian is here to tell us about The Book of Wine and Sorrow, The Martyr's View book 4, urban fantasy, adventure.
There's also a great giveaway.
______________________
The Martyr's Vow series, Book 4
Urban Fantasy/Adventure
Date Published: 12-15-2025
Publisher: Shadow Spark Publishing
Newlyweds Armand and Vonnie are traveling to Armenia, where Armand hopes
to reconnect with his estranged culture and investigate his family’s
troubled history. But when a sadistic oligarch kidnaps them, their honeymoon
spirals into a living nightmare.
Frightened and far from home, Armand and Vonnie race against time to locate a
powerful artifact before their captor does, or they’ll join the dead in
the underworld forever. The couple’s frantic quest takes them to lush
mountains, desolate monasteries, and bustling markets, but they’re not
traveling alone. A distant cousin with a penchant for stretching the truth, a
mythological strongman who hurls boulders like skipping stones, and a stuffy
ghost with a love for poetry join them on this macabre treasure hunt.
Armand must summon the courage of his ancestors and sacrifice himself for
love, or the Scribe of Death will come for his beloved.
Bittersweet and brutal, The Book of Wine and Sorrow is the thrilling
conclusion to The Martyr’s Vow series and a heart-aching testament to
survival and wrestling with your demons.
About the Author
Eric Avedissian is an adjunct professor and speculative fiction author. His
published work includes the award-winning novel The Ocean Hugs Hard and the
Martyr’s Vow series (Accursed Son, Mr. Penny-Farthing, Blood Family, and
The Book of Wine & Sorrow). His short stories appear in various
anthologies, including Across the Universe, Great Wars, and Rituals &
Grimoires. Avedissian received a 2024 Fellowship in Prose from the New Jersey
State Council on the Arts. He lives in New Jersey with his wife and a
ridiculous number of books. Find him online at www.ericavedissian.com if you
dare.
Sonja Gunter is here to tell us about Narda's Truth, The Witch DNA #2, fantasy romance, romantasy, urban fantasy.
There's also a great giveaway.
_________________________
Angel numbers & scents unearth a truth that has been
hidden for years.
Narda’s Truth
The Witch DNA #2
by Sonja Gunter
Genre: Fantasy Romance, Romantasy, Urban Fantasy
Angel numbers & scents unearth a truth
that has been hidden for years.
Reach for the Soap, owner, Narda Hunt, has
been receiving signs in the form of numbers telling her she needs to find her
half-sisters, Opaline and Ebba. An imminent threat is about to force them to
combine their witch powers to survive.
One set of angel numbers brings Narda closer
to Owin Waters, whom fate has determined is her soulmate. Their special
connection sends them to another realm where Narda meets her deceased mother.
She reveals the truth behind the special powers that Narda and her sisters
possess.
With this knowledge, Narda brings to light the
evil that is waiting for her and her sisters on their twenty-fifth birthday.
Could these three words articulate distinct spiritual essences to fuse
together?
Bookstore owner, Opaline Lunn, facilitates a Speed Dating Event, in
hopes of finding her soulmate. She meets attendee Detective Eamon Dayan, who
wasn’t looking for love, but sparks fly at their first kiss.
Together they unearth Opaline’s powers which lead to the discovery that
she has two sisters, and someone called The Ancient One who wants to kill them.
Unraveling a myriad of mysteries, with Opaline’s newfound ability to do
spells, the soulmates must find her sisters by her twenty-fifth birthday to be
able to confront the evil force and save all of them.
I was born and raised in the cold and beautiful Minnesota,
but I escaped to Illinois for seventeen years to raise my two boys, and now I
call Florida home. My husband Andy, who’s always been my hero, has put up with
my late night computer typing and endless stacks of papers with my stories on
them. We have one furry friend as family: Chip, a sixteen year old ragdoll cat.
Life has been full of ups and downs, but I’ve made it
through the hard times. I love to travel and go to Disney World to trade
pins. I’ve been a bowler for many years,
and you can catch me writing my next novel at the lanes.
I encourage you to check out my web site, www.sonjagunter.com for more info and
don’t be surprised if I let my Norwegian heritage come through in my stories.
Megan Slayer is here to tell us about Taken by the Sorcerer, paranormal women's fiction - urban fantasy.
Read on for details...
________________________
Paranormal Women’s Fiction, Urban Fantasy
Date Published: October 3, 2025
Publisher: Changeling Press
She’s never been taken seriously. He’s seen as a geek.
Together, they could be unstoppable.
Skylar Graves is a synth -- she can shift into anything. She’s also
known all around the world as a billionaire playgirl fool. Parties?
She’s had them. Money? Bucketloads. Brains… Well, there’s
the rub. No one’s ever believed she had the brains to make the money. No
one’s ever believed in her at all.
Enter Brody and a reason to use those brains.
Brody isn’t the best sorcerer. He knows his spells and how to create
them, but he’s still learning to control his magic. When he finds his
perfect mate, he’ll be set. But is she out there? The trouble is,
he’s been tasked with helping other paras find Eerie and he can’t
do that alone.
The mome he meets Skylar, he knows he’s found his match, but the problem
lies in convincing her she’s more than she ever believed.
Not impossible… right?
EXCERPT
“I am getting into this party.” Brody Teague drove up the winding
road to the gravel area at the base of the Skylar Graves property. The music
blared and vibrated the ground, even this far out. He hated loud noise and
didn’t really want to be here, but he needed to speak to Skylar.
He just knew she was a para and could help him. He knew it.
Still, he couldn’t hide his irritation. How did one woman have so much
ridiculous wealth? This wasn’t just opulence, but obnoxious opulence.
He’d bet the people attending this party spent more on one pair of shoes
than he did on his rent for the month.
Right now, he needed to speak to her. What would she say if she knew she was
meeting a true sorcerer who wanted her help? She’d probably laugh. If
she helped him, he could develop his potion to allow paras to move in regular
society, and also concoct the signal to help paras who didn’t even know
they were para to find refuge in Eerie. He knew there were more people out
there who could come to the town and find a place to exist and understand
their abilities, if they had the signal to get there.
He left his car and trudged the last few hundred yards up the road to the main
gate. The number of cars parked every which way in his path amazed him. How
were these people going to leave? They’d need choreography or a cop to
help them.
Didn’t matter to him. He wasn’t going to be there when they left.
He’d get in, give his pitch, hope for the best, and get the hell out of
there. He walked up to the gate and admired the wrought iron. The doors swung
loose, allowing him onto the property. He’d bet this gate was locked up
tight any other time. He touched the iron and the chill settled in his bones.
The gate was spooky, really. It looked like a cartoony alien in the middle.
Aliens… He knew they existed, but they didn’t look like the
Roswellian versions. They were much more like humans than the actual humans
believed. But aliens were good at morphing and shifting to fit their
environment.
As he walked among the people having conversations and dancing, he realized he
shouldn’t be there. He wasn’t dressed for the occasion. He’d
never seen so much purple in his life. People danced by the pool, swaying and
gyrating. The men tended to be dressed in suits and tuxedos. The women wore
evening gowns. The plethora of sequins caught the light. Glasses clinked and
laughter rang out. The music blared even louder and the water seemed to thrum
with the beat.
Would anyone notice him? Somehow, he doubted it.
He spied the buffet of food. Every fruit and veggie possible for a tray were
spread out on the table, along with a chocolate fountain and a stack of
glasses, no doubt filled with champagne. He’d bet it was the most
expensive bubbly, at that.
There were people at the side table with powder that might or might not be
drugs. He forced himself away from that area. He’d never had a problem
with drugs or wanted to try them but didn’t judge anyone who did.
He fought the urge to cover his ears. The noise bothered him. He was a
scientist and sorcerer. He needed to concentrate. This place didn’t
allow him to do that. He could barely focus.
He scanned the various people at the party and shook his head. She
wasn’t there. He’d know Skylar in a heartbeat. Then again, she was
about the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Silky blonde hair,
willowy and tall, a few curves, and kissable lips. He wanted to look into her
brown eyes and get lost.
He balled his hand and gritted his teeth. Damn it. He wasn’t there to
drool over her. He was there to ask a question.
Brody focused on the money spent to not only throw the party, but to have this
house and lifestyle. The paintings weren’t photos or pictures printed on
canvas, but actual works of art. Was that a Picasso? Nah. He tipped his head.
Well, maybe. She had the money to buy whatever she wanted, so it was
plausible.
He couldn’t imagine having that much cash. He’d barely scraped by
all his life. But by being poor, he’d learned how to use what he had and
make it stretch to work for his needs. It taught him to be humble, too.
A woman in a blood red body-hugging gown grabbed him. “Look at you. Are
you one of the dancers?” She yanked him close and kissed him right on
the mouth. “You sure taste good.”
He wriggled in her grasp. “I’m not a dancer.” He had two
left feet. “Sorry.”
“Then stay with me.” She tugged him across the expanse of lawn
toward the pool. “She brought a few newbs. This one’s right off
the farm.”
He managed to disengage himself from her and darted back to the safety of the
bigger crowd on the veranda. Why anyone thought they had the right to force
themselves on someone else was beyond him. She’d touched him without his
permission. Gross.
He didn’t know that woman and was sure she wasn’t a para. Hell,
she’d probably slash his ass if she found out he was one. Would they
turn on Skylar when they found out she was one? If she was one…
He rested his hands on his hips and surveyed the crowd again. If she’d
used some of her money to help paras and not buy another sports car,
she’d be a folk hero. There were plenty of paras who needed a hand in
getting to Eerie and more who could use help in figuring out what their magic
might be.
But she’d chosen to be decadent.
He moved through the people again, looking for her. Nope, she wasn’t
there. He’d never forget her hair or smile.
A woman with bright red hair bumped into him, but he doubted she knew he was
there.
“I hear she’s a para,” the woman said. “I don’t
know how. She’s so normal.”
What a reductive thing to say. He kept his back to her but continued to
listen.
“Doesn’t surprise me,” the woman with her said.
“She’s a freak. I mean, how else could she have this kind of money
and do absolutely nothing? It’s supposed to be her father’s money,
but has anyone ever seen him? No. He doesn’t exist. I bet she stole it
or it’s created money.”
Judgmental much? He rolled his eyes, then resumed looking through the crowd.
“Think she really is manufacturing the money?” the first woman
said.
“Nah,” the other woman replied. “It’s just a way for
her to get attention. She’s probably got a dead husband or ex that she
bled dry financially.”
“She is an attention-grabber.”
He hated that these people who’d been invited to the party -- or maybe
they’d crashed it like he had -- so openly dismissed her. Like she
didn’t have feelings or didn’t matter and wasn’t a person.
So rude.
Still, he wasn’t so thrilled with Skylar. He wished she’d donate
her money or time back to Eerie to help the para community. Paras were dying
from harm coming to them via the human and outside world. Vampires were staked
for being different. Faeries slaughtered for making magic. Trolls and gnomes
killed for being perceived as ugly. It wasn’t right.
A golden eagle soared into the space and flew right past him. The bird seemed
to keep circling him.
“Go,” he muttered. “I’m not dinner. Shoo.” Why
was this eagle focusing on him? He wobbled. Shit. Was it trained to find the
crashers? Could be. He wanted to use a spell to get the fuck out of there, but
he’d have to return to get his car. Goddamn it.
The bird flew around him again, then soared across the expanse and landed on
the upright next to the DJ stand.
The DJ stopped the music. “And there is Skylar Graves’ famous pet
eagle. Who else but Skylar would have an eagle as a pet? So majestic and
graceful. But watch out. She has a nasty bite! Let’s give it up for
Audra, her eagle!”
The crowd cheered and the eagle soared out of the way, behind the second floor
of the mansion.
He groaned. What a ridiculous show of extravagance. It displayed her wealth,
sure, but it was a waste of money. The bird should be in the wild or a zoo,
where it could be appreciated and admired. Not stuck in a damn mansion with a
woman who had more money than brains.
He snorted to himself. Good God, he was being harsh and judgmental.
“Is she here?” someone asked.
“She’s having a party and doesn’t care to show up,”
another said. “She’s probably out of the country. She’s
never here.”
“I bet we could rob this place blind and she’d never know,”
a third person said.
“Except she’s got the best security system. This place is
protected better than government vaults,” another voice said.
“Don’t try it. This joint will scream and lock down in
seconds.”
Brody gritted his teeth again. She had to be there. He had no choice. People
were discussing robbing her and belittling her… just like he had. Damn
it.
He bowed his head. He had to think about her as a person and para, not a
source of money. That’s how they all saw her -- a reflection of her
disposable income. She lived her life like nothing mattered. It was all a big
party. She didn’t command respect.
Then again, he didn’t exactly command it, either. He did better behind
the scenes. Let him stay in his lab with his medicines and potions. There he
was fine. All he wanted to do was help his fellow paras.
“Excuse me.” A woman tugged his arm and yanked him out of the main
space and behind a curtain.
“What the?” He stared at her. He’d never seen anyone with
golden brown eyes. They were transfixing. But she’d grabbed him.
“What do you want?”
“You.”
He couldn’t look away from her. Most of her face was concealed behind a
black, feathery mask. He could swear he knew her, but he couldn’t place
her.
“I need to speak to you.” She held onto him. “Do you know
Skylar?”
When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as
well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but
football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends
of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.
