Paranormal Women’s Fiction, Urban Fantasy
Date Published: October 3, 2025
Publisher: Changeling Press
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?
“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?”
About the Author
Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been nominated at the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best Ménage, Best BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on various e-tailer sites.
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.
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