“And as I was saying,” Hellcat continued as the hearse lurched to a stop. “This really is a terrible idea. You’re only going to embarrass yourself if you challenge Celestine. She is almost twice your age, and much more skilled in the arcane arts. Your victory over her last time was merely an act of luck, not skill. Do you truly want to be disgraced this early in your reign? Turn this automobile around and go back to that cesspit of a town in which we live. You’ll be safer there.”

  I snorted and undid my seatbelt. The sound startled Maverick, finally dragging his face from the window. I shot my cat a dirty look. “As if you care about my safety. We’re both aware of the fact that if I die, you’re free to find a new owner.”

  Hellcat kneaded the padded bench seat nervously. It was probably the strangest thing I’d seen in recent history. My familiar was many things, but anxious wasn’t one of them. Arrogant, aloof, angry, a know-it-all, but not anxious. Only once in his life had I seen him truly terrified, when I’d accidentally shot a blood bolt at him. This unease was completely out of character, an emotion he left to lesser beings than himself.

  “Celestine will make mince-meat of you,” he muttered.

  “Oh, go smell your litterbox,” I grumbled, glancing over my shoulder at the rest of my passengers.

  Lorcan was just now sitting up, knuckling sleep from his eyes. It was about a half-hour after sundown. This had been a long journey, even without the handsy ex-ghost and prim housewife zombie in tow. I had to admit I was having second thoughts about dragging them along, problematic distance or not. Zombies seemed to be a pretty common byproduct of Blood Witches, but what I’d done with Darla... that was all kinds of wrong. Reanimating a ghost, without the use of her body, broke all the rules as we knew them.

  Maybe I’d ask the pair to take an extended shopping trip while we visited the Assembly. Yeah, that sounded like a plan.

  Lorcan squinted through the windshield and frowned. “That’s it? I thought the Hollow would be more... hallowed-looking.”

  I followed his gaze and had to admit I saw his point. Sub Rosa Sanctuary was the official name, but most people had taken to calling every supernatural haven a Hollow, since Haven Hollow had been the first established home for monsters. There was Jinx Junction outside Amarillo, Texas, and Aegis Arbor, located somewhere in the Midwest. That one had been founded by a faerie, and they were especially squirrelly about its location. And of course, there was the Sub Rosa Sanctuary in Newark, New Jersey.

  Most Hollows were small towns, little enclaves where monsters stood a chance of blending in due to the low human population. But just how did one hide a Sanctuary in the middle of a thriving metropolis? By hiding it in plain sight, of course.

  The entrance to the Sanctuary was fixed in a defunct mall. From the outside, it looked like it should have been condemned. Every shop front was boarded up, and plastered with yellow tape that read ‘DO NOT CROSS’ in big block letters. Graffiti covered almost every square inch of the stone and surrounding sidewalk. A rat even crawled out of a crack in one of the walls, scurrying toward us. It was almost as big as a tomcat, which could only mean one thing. This was a witch’s familiar.

  I pushed the driver’s side door open and stepped out, striding forward to meet it. Hellcat leaped down from the seat as well, sniffing contemptuously, clearly not impressed.

  “A rat, honestly...” he said, tail flicking back and forth in irritation as he faced me. “This shows the level of respect in which they hold you—they’ve sent a rat as welcoming committee.” Then he laughed until a furball got stuck in his throat and he ended up coughing and yacking instead. It was gross, but served him right.

  The rat stood on its hind legs and ground one of its tiny hands into the palm of the other. It bared its teeth in a snarl at Hellcat, who was too busy birthing up something awful from his throat. The rat managed to look somehow menacing, despite its relatively small size.

  “Watch who you callin’ undignified there, pal,” it said in a thick Jersey accent. “I ain’t the one chokin’ on whatever the hell that nasty thing is.”

  The furball was now sitting on the sidewalk and steaming.

  I felt rather than saw Lorcan’s approach.

  Every month that passed made our awareness of each other increase, but after performing the binding ritual, things felt more intimate. His energy was like a caress along my skin, so that even standing near him had me on edge. And the feelings were confusing: I wasn’t sure if I wanted to push him away, or pull him into the hearse and do something drastic to his clothes. And his body.

  And... Goddess, I needed to stop.

  “Now that’s something you don’t see every day,” Lorcan said, presumably regarding the rat, and I could hear an edge of laughter in his voice. “And this gentleman is quite right, Hellcat, whatever that was that crawled up your esophagus is quite off-putting.”

  “The name’s Liam,” the rat said as it faced Lorcan and offered its small hand. Lorcan had to basically fold himself in half in order to shake the creature’s paw—but he managed. Then the rat turned its attention back to Hellcat, who was cleaning himself.

  “Who’s jerky?” the rat asked.

  Hellcat stopped licking himself and faced the rat with little interest. “Abaddon Pompington,” Hellcat said, and I swore he exaggerated his upper crust, English accent on purpose just to make himself sound more pretentious.

  “You sound like a bozo to me,” Liam said.

  I couldn’t help a snort of laughter as Hellcat bristled, hindquarters bunching as he crouched.

  “As much fun as it is to watch the two stooges, can we get on with things?” Maverick asked, rounding the corner with Olga and Betanya in tow.

  Olga was fidgeting, stealing nervous glances at the mall every few seconds. This was going to prove to be the first interaction Olga had with a large group of witches since being rescued from Mother.

  Betanya looked just as nervous, but controlled it better. She’d been tossed out of the Portland coven just like I had, and for the exact same crime. For daring to survive a vampire blooding. Mother had sent Betanya packing decades before I’d have my unfortunate run-in with the undead. At the time, I’d thought banishing Betanya was a merciful gesture, a way to spare a friend. Now I had to wonder if Mother had seen Betanya in my future and wanted to make her easier for Roscoe to end.

  I shook my head, trying to clear it. I just couldn’t understand Mother. She’d always been capricious, but until recently, I wouldn’t have thought her capable of this level of callousness.

  “We’re waiting for Poppy and the others,” I answered Maverick.

  “They can come in after us,” Maverick said.

  The rat crossed its arms. It was such a human-like gesture that I almost laughed. For some reason, I liked Liam—maybe because he’d put Hellcat in his place.

  It took another five minutes, but my Escalade finally pulled into a parking space near ours. The painted lines were so faded, it was hard to tell where one spot ended and another began.

  The gleam in Poppy’s eye was not-quite-sane when she exited from behind the driver’s side. Her soft, golden hair was mussed into unattractive tufts, as if she’d run her hair through it until it stuck. She pointed a shaking finger at Darla, Libby, and Astrid as they clambered out. Darla and Libby were unabashed, but Astrid had the grace to hang her head.

  “They’re driving with you on the trip back,” Poppy said, and there was a note of hysteria in her voice.

  I winced, but what else was there to say? She’d bitten one hell of a bullet for me.

  “Now that we’ve settled that, can we go?” Maverick asked, glaring at whoever would look at him.

  “Indeed,” Hellcat drawled. “Lead on, vermin.”

  Liam’s eyes narrowed, and he bared his teeth at my cat once again. “We’re gonna have us a scuffle, cat.”

  “I’m shaking,” Hellcat said, tail twitching once more. “Now see us inside. The sooner this farce is over with, the better.”

  “Fart? Did someone say fart?” Charlie Ray echoed, padding toward us. “Summa bitch!”

  Hellcat rolled his eyes as Liam scurried forward, and the rest of us followed.

  “I am surrounded by idiots,” Hellcat moaned.

  Chapter Eight

  Liam led us around one side of the mall, skirting what appeared to be a homeless woman clutching a bottle of gin.

  Upon closer inspection, I realized the woman was actually a night hag so heavily bundled in rags, her face was barely visible. I caught just a hint of the malice she put off as we passed and shuddered. I’d had more than one unpleasant encounter with the Hollow’s resident night hag, Ophelia Ponsobby, before her untimely demise. A demise I’d caused, though it had been purely in self-defense. She’d been trying to scare me to death at the time…

  But as much as I disliked hags, I had to admit it was an effective strategy for keeping the mundanes out. With the night hag on watch, no one would come within a mile of this place. A tiny, animal part of their brains would tell them to stay back, or face the consequences. I was only getting a tiny taste of the night hag’s power, and I wanted to bolt in the other direction. I was betting there was a hag or wraith posted on every entrance, all dressed as vagrants to match the décor.

  We came to a stop in front of one of the not-so-automatic glass doors. The grime on the panes was so thick, I felt the obnoxious urge to scrawl ‘wash me’ on the glass.

  Liam stood on his hind legs and knocked on the bottommost pane, shouting, “Oi! Open up! Mrs. Velardi got guests!”

  For a moment, nothing happened.

  Then, at some signal I missed, the doors swung inward. It was jarring to watch what appeared to be two sliding doors go in a completely unorthodox direction. Liam resumed his brisk walk forward, pacing into the interior like he owned the place. For all I knew, he belonged to the woman who did.

  The room beyond the grimy front doors was so impressive, it tore a gasp from my throat. And I wasn’t the gasping sort of woman. Or the effusive, emotional type, either but staring at the inside of the Sanctuary, I couldn’t help it. The magic here was simply superb, easily on par with Mother’s, if not a little ostentatious.

  The ground floor was at least as wide as a football field, and composed of shining, gold-veined marble. A row of pillars flanked the entryway, forming a corridor that led to a pair of escalators. Shops spread out on either side of us, peddling items of every size and description. Apothecaries, pet stores, luxury items, clothing, and more. From the glow and buzz of conversation above us, there were more sights to be seen on the floors above.

  It was strange to see so many different supernaturals strolling around. There were no furtive glances, potions at play, or cloak and dagger exchanges. A centaur trotted alongside a barghest, deep in conversation, while a siren lounged in a nearby fountain. Haven Hollow may have been a sanctuary for monsters, but it didn’t hold a candle to this. It hadn’t really struck me how much we denied ourselves in the Hollow until I saw so many of my fellow creatures able to walk around in public with no shame.

  “Ooh, wowie!” Darla exclaimed, spinning in a circle to take in the vaulted ceiling, and the seemingly sourceless light flooding in from every direction. If I had to guess, there was a Summer faerie or two perched near the top who were paid to sit around all day and illuminate the place.

  “Jiminy Cricket!” Libby said in awe, her eyes wide.

  “I don’t know ‘bout no crickets, but this place is the bee’s knees!” Darla called out.

  “It really is,” Poppy said, eyes round as she took everything in. “There’s so much magic here.” Then she turned to face me. “How did they manage this? It shouldn’t be possible. The proportions on the outside are so much smaller than what’s… in here.”

  Betanya nodded, glancing around, though she contented herself with benign interest, as if this wasn’t the most spectacular arrangement of magic she’d ever seen. “It’s dimensional magic. I imagine a faerie or two collaborated to create what you see before you. From what little I could glean from Charlie Ray, this place is the size of a small town. There are six hundred permanent residents, and a few hundred transients. And, of course, tourists.”

  “And how did Charlie Ray come to know this, seeing as he’s been living in Appalachia?” Hellcat asked on a growl. “Last I heard, there was no running water or mail service there.”

  Charlie Ray puffed up, tail twitching dangerously. “You got you a real bad attitude,” he said. “An’ I’ll have you know we got us water and the postal service just fine. We even got us paved roads, we do.”

  “Charlie Ray was actually born here,” Betanya continued, looking at Hellcat with obvious dislike. “Scarlett’s mother breeds familiars of all species.”

  “I was born in that there shop,” Charlie Ray continued as he motioned with a nod to one of the shops down the line. “An’ then Ms. Scarlett sent me off to bond with her grand-niece out in Alabama. Didn’t work out none, but I know this place like the back of my tail, I do.”

  Charlie Ray inclined his head toward one of the nearby shops again and I spied a pair of fluffy poodles scratching at the front glass, eager doggie grins on their faces. A gerbil ran in a wheel while a rat tracked his speed, and looked to be murmuring encouragement. The glittering green script on the front window read ‘Familiar Faces’.

  “Oh, Wanda, they’re so cute!” Astrid squealed. Her face was practically glowing as she took in the eager puppies. “This place is amazing! Can we go exploring?”

  “I’m glad you like it,” a deep, booming voice called out and everyone immediately stopped whatever they were saying or doing.

  It didn’t take me long to identify the speaker.

  He was incredibly tall for a man, probably 6’6” and at least three hundred pounds of ready muscle. He was handsome, I supposed, if you went for the silver fox type. His black hair was threaded through with silver, giving him a distinguished air. His face was a little round, but it was hard to concentrate on when you caught sight of his eyes. Calling them hazel didn’t seem to do them justice. They were the closest thing to tawny I’d ever seen in a human. And he was human, that much I was sure of. He didn’t exude magic like most of the others milling around us.

  As he drew level with us, I realized why the double-breasted herringbone coat he wore looked familiar. I’d designed it a few months prior, along with a handful of women’s dresses and lingerie. The buyer had remained anonymous, which wasn’t unheard of for online orders. Some people were squeamish with buying enchanted clothing, especially if they were doing so for the first time. If I remembered correctly, this order had requested potions for protection, luck, and concealment on the coat, poise for the evening wear, and lust-based spells on the lingerie. I’d assumed it was a wealthy man with a mistress who was ordering everything.

  With mounting anxiety, I realized it had probably been an audition. Scarlett had been testing me and my powers. I could only hope I’d passed.

  “You can close the door now, boys,” the man called. “You’re lettin’ a draft in.”

  I blinked.

  I’d assumed the doors had been magicked open, or were keyed into certain people’s voices, but apparently not. By the time I craned my neck to look, the doors had swung shut, and there was a man standing very near my shoulder.

  No... a young man—not much more than a boy really.

  He couldn’t have been much older than Astrid. Nineteen, maybe. Twenty at the most. Traces of baby fat still clung to his cheeks, though he was otherwise thin. He’d tied his black hair into a tail at the base of his neck, and there was a twinkle of mischief in his large gray eyes. There was something about him that seemed somehow… familiar, though I wasn’t sure why, because I’d never seen him before.

  I hadn’t been expecting him, and his sudden appearance actually managed to draw a small yelp from me. That earned me a wide, glittering smile. A very sharp smile. What I’d assumed was an adolescent human was probably a much older vampire.

  “Boo,” he drawled, and there was just a hint of a New England accent when he spoke.

  Another man, identical to the first, came level with Astrid, who also jumped. It made me feel just a little better about my reaction. Both vampires were taller than Astrid, but well beneath Maverick’s lofty height. To his credit, my churlish cousin drew his sister a little behind him, shielding her from the vampire’s attention, and the vampires were certainly giving her attention. Maverick’s glower would have made a lesser man flinch, but the newcomer barely batted an eye.

  “I thought witches were made of sterner stuff than that,” the second vampire said, giving us all an assessing look. “And a good deal more... ah...”

  “Dignified?” I supplied with a narrow smile. “Don’t worry, we check that at the door.”

  “Don’t mind his insolence,” the human man started and extended a hand.

  I did the same. “I’m Wanda Depraysie, High Witch of the Scapegrace Coven, operating out of Haven Hollow. I received an invitation to attend an Assembly by High Witch Scarlett Velardi.”

  The man shook my hand, a wide grin splitting his face. You’d have thought I’d announced it was Christmas. He leaned forward, offering me a wink.

  “Scarlett only has good things to say about you and your work, Wanda.”

  “And you are?” I asked, eyeing him with interest.

  “I’m Guy. Guy Velardi.”

  And with that, he confirmed what I’d been dreading all along. Guy Velardi was Scarlett’s husband and all-around bad news. He was the head of New Jersey’s crime syndicate, both in the mundane and now supernatural worlds.

  The clothes really had been a sneaky audition. Had Scarlett been trying to determine how far gone I was? The insidious nature of my Blood Witch powers hadn’t found its way into my job yet, but if Lorcan and I failed to find a solution, it would. I’d assumed Scarlett’s invitation had been a way to take an indirect shot at Mother, but maybe I was wrong.