By day, Violet is a supposed charlatan running a potion shop in New Orleans and catering to drunk tourists who want to take a walk on the wild side. By night, she's a Potion Master, a rare, magical being whose shop straddles the portal to Earth and Hell, slinging potions to magical beasts who only come out at night. She's also the protector of both, a neutral being who carefully navigates the Accords between oblivious humans and the creatures who wouldn't mind snacking on them. Unfortunately for both sides, Violet is terrible at her job.

Lucifer's efforts to secure the angel's cooperation are proving unsuccessful until a chance meeting ends with an invitation to attend a forum. There's only one caveat. Violet's presence is required, and she must offer a demonstration of her powers. Lucifer is against it. Clara wants to destroy them all. Dave is . . . Dave. And the enigmatic ruler of the dragons doesn't care about any of it. He's chosen to pursue Violet with a single-minded focus. But whether he wants her for her or her powers remains unknown.

Scarlett Prynne is new in town, but that won't stop trouble from finding the young witch. It always does. Before her brother kicked her through a magical portal that eventually landed her in nowhere Tonopah, Nevada, he called her an agent of chaos. But let's be fair. Our Scarlett doesn't create problems. Her magic just attracts it in all shapes and furry sizes. Like her familiar, Runeclaw. The black cat's tongue is as sharp as his nails, and he has a snark that can cut through just about anything. This time though, trouble was already here.

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.

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.