Chapter 1

"You"vegottobe kidding me," I groaned, coughing as I waved away the cloud of dust I"d just inhaled. Knowing my family, I was lucky it was just regular old dust and not some cleverly mixed inhalant meant to turn your lungs inside out, or melt your skin, or something equally hideous.

I muttered to myself as I carefully finished opening the dusty old box. I"d been putting off sorting through my inherited junk for most of my adult life. But every once in a while, when I was short on cash, I"d leave my perfectly normal human life and venture to the other side long enough to find something to sell off. Somehow, that felt more acceptable to me than using the money that still sat untouched in the family account. That was their money. And fuck them.

Although…I wasn"t even sure how much of the vast family fortune was left after the government and the witches" council was done with their fines and seizure of assets and all that crap.

I tried to stay out of it. I"d been a small child when my remaining relatives were executed for crimes against nature. Only my age had saved me from being implicated. Even the magical community wouldn"t execute a six-year-old child.

I came from a long line of evil assholes, so it should surprise no one that I was slowly dismantling their carefully hoarded legacy and selling off family heirlooms to the highest bidder. Being cold like that just came naturally.

I sighed and carefully started pawing through the box of odds and ends. I had a detecting charm sitting on the floor beside me—because touching anything that once belonged to a Lovell witch without taking the proper precautions was just asking for pain and horrors. My family tended to give birth to strong witches capable of high-caliber magic, and they were known for inventing their own spells. So of course they also tended to create scary shit and hoard the knowledge like the misers they were.

I pulled out a few of my mother"s old journals. Those would be going straight into the fireplace, and I"d scatter the ashes over moving water when I was done, just in case. I shuddered at the slight buzz of magic that emanated from them even now. Yep, definitely needed to take the "kill it with fire" approach.

Setting the journals aside, I pulled out a chalice. "Gold," I said, with a grin. "Perfect." Placing that one in the sell pile, I pulled out a couple jewel-encrusted incense burners and an athame that didn"t have too much magical residue clinging to them. They could be sold off just for the decorative components. I ran a thumb over the red stone in the handle of the athame. I"d eat my best pair of granny panties if that wasn"t a real ruby.

Not bad for a day"s haul. I could definitely pay rent for a few months with what I"d get from those. And I barely even felt anxious or depressed at the reminder of my roots. A bang-up day, all around.

I went to close the box, meaning to just toss the rest of the loose riffraff rattling around the bottom into the nearest dumpster, but a glimmer of something caught my eye. I paused, kneeling, leaning cautiously over the box. Okay…that big ol" ancient tome definitely hadn"t been there a few seconds ago. I glanced at the detecting charm on the floor beside me. It was still pulsing a soft, steady green. No dangerous magic detected.

"My ass," I snorted. No way did I trust the magically appearing book. Especially since it looked like a serious grimoire. Sucking in a breath, I slowly reached out and picked it up, my fingers sliding over the slightly warm, oddly textured cover that could only be made of some sort of skin. Because, why not, right? Only the best in items made out of pain and torture for the Lovell witches.

I yelped, falling back onto my wide ass as the power that had been disguised suddenly manifested. The fucking book was dripping with magical energy, like an overflowing buffet table beckoning to the witchy side of me with promises of gluttonous, mind-bending levels of more.

I sighed. Fucking family. It had been disguised, until I touched it. I could probably sell the damned thing—whatever it was—to a magic collector, or to a witch who was as interested in power as the rest of the supernatural world always was. But I knew I had to actually open the damned thing first and see what was inside. Because knowing the source, I"d probably be better off destroying it than selling it. No one should possess the kind of knowledge my family had.

Damn it. I"d really been hoping for a nice, easy trip to the pawn shops today. But no. I had to deal with more of this shit. This was why most of the estate was still sitting there untouched so many years after the deaths of my upstanding parents. Yeah. The sarcasm was thick. This stupid book was probably going to be a bitch to destroy.

I crossed my legs and glanced at the detecting charm. It was flashing purple now that I had broken whatever dampening magic the book had on it. Purple meant strong magic—duh, thank you very much charm—but still not harmful. Interesting.

I didn"t have a shit-ton of magical ability, thanks to my refusal to learn most of the stuff that had landed my family a mass beheading, but I gathered what I had, drawing strength from the earth beneath me, the plants that packed my little rental house, the growing things outside. Then I gripped the book and opened the cover.

The shrieking was so loud I dropped the book open on the floor as I covered my ears. "Gryphon shit!" I muttered. What? Did my family create a book that murdered people with sound waves or something? Sounded like the sort of pointless crap they"d get up to—particularly Aunt Nightshade. Ol" Shady was quite the prankster. You know, if ridiculous things that turned out to be deadly could be considered good fun.

I froze as all my mediumship senses flared to life, alerting me to the presence of a spirit. Great. A fucking haunted screaming death book. Just what I always wanted. I rolled my eyes upward, taking in the apparition that had materialized, its see-through form tethered to the grimoire by cords that only someone like me could see.

I thought his coloring might have been fair when he was alive, though it was hard to tell with ghosts. His foggy form was tallish and broad-shouldered, but lean. And, because the fates really must like playing jokes on me, the face that wavered in and out of focus for a split second before becoming wispy smoke once again was that of an angel, all high cheekbones and full lips. The eyes were the only bit of color left, not really eye shaped, but orbs of glowing blue that probably had something to do with whatever scraps were left of his life energies.

He had to have been a paranormal in life. Humans didn"t retain that much energy in death. I wondered what he was. From what I could tease out from the little bits of his remaining power, it wasn"t something I"d ever encountered before.

"Yo," I said with a little wave.

The ghost crossed his arms over his non-existent chest and scowled at me as if I should cower at his fury. "Lovell," he said in that hallow, neither here-nor-there voice most spooks had. "What are your intentions?"

I sighed and leaned forward, putting my elbows on my crossed legs, and resting my chin in my hand. This was probably going to take a while. Sounded like he was some sort of guardian or something.

"Well," I said tiredly. "I was intending on selling this box of junk so I can pay rent. But I get the feeling my day is about to go to complete shit."

He blinked down at me. As if ghosts needed to blink. He didn"t even really have eyelids in his misty form. But it worked, somehow, his burning blue eye orbs winking in and out of sight. It was weird how they mostly maintained their corporeal mannerisms even when they were dead. "You"re a Lovell."

I shrugged. "I guess. Although I don"t usually admit that. People tend to go all "oh, you"re one of them." Then the screaming or the sucking up starts. So, I try to pretend the name doesn"t exist."

Ha. I"d just confused a ghost. I grinned at the way his barely-there brow wrinkled as he tried to puzzle me out. "You have denounced your coven?"

I shrugged. "The coven doesn"t really exist anymore. It died with my parents. You know, when they were executed? Not really up on current events, are you?"

He drifted off, wandering over to peer out the living room window. It was weird, but buildings did seem to have some sort of tangibility to ghosts—at least in the sense that they could see them and distinguish which plane of existence they were on. "We"re in the human world," he said in surprise. Then he turned back to me, and I got the impression of a ghostly eyebrow raise. "Why are we in the human world?"

I pushed myself to my feet and went to get a glass of water. The ghost trailed along after me to the kitchen. Apparently, his tether to the book allowed him a fair amount of room to travel. Made sense. Whoever tied him to it probably intended to use him in some capacity, maybe for information gathering or something. Wouldn"t do to bind your incorporeal slave too tightly. I added ice to my glass and pushed a dusty strand of my green hair back out of my face as I glanced at the clock on the stove. "So, what"s in the book?" I asked, ignoring his question about my living situation. "And make it quick. I need to get this wrapped up before my roommate comes home. Human. Prone to fainting and all that crap." I waved a hand.

Of course I lived in the human world. Gods and demons, everyone in the paranormal world took one look at me and ran away, made the sign of protection against evil, or tried to get on my good side so I"d share all my secrets to power and scariness. No thanks. Humans just thought I was another human—an eccentric who liked plants and died my hair funky colors. Sure, it sucked to live here with the normies, where I had to keep my magic side under wraps. But it sure as hell beat dealing with all that other crap.

The ghost drifted closer, and I frowned at him. He reached out a hand and dragged it through my aura, making me shiver at the cold. And wait a second…had I just felt him touch my arm? "You"re different than your predecessors," he mused. "I think you might be the one."

I rolled my eyes. "The one? The one what? Look, if this is some magical quest bullshit, you can just stop right there. I"ll get you unbound from that weird book. If the thing is clean, I"ll sell it to some witch for a pretty penny. If it"s full of unimaginable horrors, I"ll burn it in dragon"s fire and scatter the ashes, maybe say a blessing. The end."

He raised his ghostly eyebrows, his glowing blue eyes flashing as he grinned. "Oh, yes. You"ll do nicely, I think. Come." He beckoned to me as he headed through the wall, back toward the book.

I rolled my eyes and eyed the liquor cabinet, wondering if I might need something stronger than water for this. Sighing, I set my water glass aside, got out a container of salt, and headed back to the living room and the newest complication in my life.

The ghost hovered over the book. "It"s a bestiary," he said, in a voice that said a lecture was coming. Perfect. Just great. I"d managed to land the nerd ghost.

I crossed my arms over my chest and dropped into a nearby armchair that I"d gotten at a flea market because it was actually big enough to accommodate my less than delicate frame. "Goodie," I said dryly. "Just what the world needs, another dictionary."

But I knew it was more than a list of magical creatures. The power pouring off the thing was making my teeth ache and my stomach churn. And my fingers itched to touch. Nope. Not happening. Fuck all that power bullshit. All that came from that was an inability to wear hats. You know…cause no heads. I really cracked myself up sometimes.

The anxiety was definitely starting to kick up. My parents had died because of shit like this. I wanted nothing to do with it.

"It is not a dictionary," the ghost huffed. As if he needed to breathe.

I rolled my eyes. "Do tell."

He miraculously seemed to sense my sarcasm. I got the ghostly equivalent of a glare as he hovered above the book, and I swear all he needed was some thick-framed glasses and a bow tie. "Turn to the table of contents, please."

I wrinkled my nose in disgust at the thought of touching the damned thing again, but Amy would be home in like half an hour, so I did as I was told, flipping to the yellowed, hand-written page that outlined the contents of the big book. I skimmed the words. "Cool. Magical creatures. In a bestiary. I"m so surprised." But even as the words left my mouth, I saw that I"d spoken too soon. The contents listed weren"t creatures—they were abilities.

Funny enough, the ghost didn"t seem impressed with my wit. "Do you see beasts listed out there? This bestiary has nothing to do with educating witches about the various and sundry magical creatures."

I waved a hand, already feeling tired. "Lay it on me, dude."

He almost smiled—as much a guy could, with no real face and nothing but a gaping hole for a mouth. But then his expression went dark—like avenging spirit kind of dark. Angry ghosts were the worst. Almost as bad as demons. "The magical entities are bound in the pages of the book. Your ancestor collected them and crafted a spell to imprison them."

I swallowed, not liking that I knew exactly where this was going. "So they…could be drained. That"s why all the power is dripping off this thing. It"s a combination prison and battery, isn"t it?" And it was carefully indexed by which ability the witch wanted to pull from the creatures within. As if the type of creature held no importance—only the type of powers that could be gained from it.

Fucking hell. My gut clenched at the thought. There were actual, living beings stuffed in the pages of this grimoire. And the person who possessed it could just suck their life essence out and use it for spells and who-the-fuck-knew what else, whenever they wanted. Convenient. Clever. And probably absolute hell for the things being used for their power.

"Damn it," I muttered. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?" I couldn"t just burn it. Or…I could, but it would kill the contents. And I couldn"t very well give it to another witch who would use it as intended. I glanced at the writing again. Illusion, strength, the ability to manipulate the elements, dream walking, mind manipulation, inducing mortal fear, raising the dead, the list got worse and worse…. "Shit, shit, shit."

The ghost smiled sadly. "You"ll do it, won"t you?"

I groaned. "No. I have no idea what you"re talking about." I had shunned high magic. I hated dealing with curses. And I had absolutely no experience with life bindings.

"You know exactly what you have to do," he intoned in the voice of someone used to preaching about morals and duty. Nerdy and uptight. He must have been a real peach in life. "You are obligated by blood debt to free the beings who are imprisoned, then destroy the book and all traces of the magic that created it."

I ground my teeth together. "I"m not obligated to do anything, dude." But I knew I would. Because, shit, I couldn"t just leave people trapped inside some creepy book. Even if the "people" were…. I flipped to the first chapter. Fair folk. Aw shit. Really? Way worse than angry ghosts. I really had to muster that moral compass, and remind myself that yes, arrogant, beautiful creatures who were more wild thing than person were still technically people. And that was probably just the tip of the iceberg. A lot of the listed abilities were absolutely not fae in nature.

And…this was probably going to require a visit to the magical world to gather shit to do the magic that I"d sworn I"d never use.

Just fucking perfect.

I glanced at the ghost to find him watching me with a strange expression on his non-face. "What?" I demanded.

He gave a gusty sigh. "I suppose you should just start at the beginning and work your way through the book. I will, of course, wait until the others are freed before I ask you to release my bond as well."

I stared at the possibly once-handsome, uptight dead guy, surprised he didn"t want me to send him off to the otherworld right now. "Why?"

He pressed his ghostly lips together. And no, there was no reason for me to notice how pillowy and lush that mouth was. When it flickered into view. Because heis afucking ghost, self. Get it together. "It"s my duty to protect the others," he said airily. "Since I"m the only one who has any ability to manifest outside the book without being summoned."

I arched a brow at him, feeling around the edges of his nearly non-existent aura. "What are you?"

He lifted one see-through shoulder and refused to answer the damned question. "Dead."

I narrowed my eyes. There was more to this than he was saying. But it didn"t really matter. All I had to do was free some powerful, undoubtedly pissed-off magical beings and get back to my boring human life. There was no reason I should care about the motives of one weird spook.

I lifted the cover of the book with one sock-clad toe, flipping the thing shut. "Okay," I said with what determination I could muster. "I need to go make rent. Then we"ll see about freeing a fae."

I mentally catalogued what I knew about defensive magic, and what charms I could whip up with the ingredients I had on hand. Because fae might be pretty and ethereal, but they were also deadly as fuck when angered.

Good times.

"Oh," the ghost said in a far too nonchalant tone of voice. "Remember, there will likely be a steeper price than usual."

I sucked in a long breath, then slowly blew it out. "Steeper?" Because of fucking course. Any magic had its price, but something this morally off would have a much higher cost than, say, a little spell to help flowers grow or mend a sock.

Those glowing blue eye orbs seared into mine and I regretted even waking up that morning. Maybe even being born. "Someone has to pay for the way your family has wronged these creatures."

And I was the only Lovell left to pay the tab.

Yay me.