1. Um, What the Hell?

The new engagement ring sparkled as I wiped down the already gleaming bar. Today was the day. My Slaughtered Lamb Bookstore and Bar was reopening. The construction crew had done much of the work while Clive and I had been in New Orleans. It wasn't the same. It'd never be the same, but The Slaughtered Lamb 2.0 gleamed in the light of the setting sun.

Thankfully, the wolves who had destroyed the original hadn't compromised the window wall overlooking the San Francisco Bay and Pacific Ocean. Seawater splashed against the thick glass four feet above the barroom floor. Kelp bobbed and swirled as large fish swam by.

"Hey, boss. I put away those last two carts of books, but I got a call that another shipment is being delivered tonight." Owen, my friend, assistant, and wicche extraordinaire, was helping me get ready before we opened up for the first time in two months. "The shelves are pretty light. We should be getting back to normal soon, though."

The wolves had been thorough in decimating my home. Very few of the books were able to be salvaged. They'd destroyed rare, ancient grimoires and first editions, irreplaceable items. I pushed away the sorrow and outrage. They didn't have a place here tonight.

Dave, my half-demon cook, came out of the kitchen carrying a plate of treats. He knew me so well. When he dropped the chocolate coconut caramel bars in front of me, Owen dove for the plate as Dave turned back to the kitchen.

"Wait. Don't you want a drink?" I held up his preferred brand of cinnamon schnapps.

He paused at the swinging doors and looked over his shoulder. Dave's shark-like black eyes zeroed in on the bottle in my hand. "Later. I don't want that scent in my head while I'm cooking." The door swung closed a moment later.

"Have you been in the kitchen yet? Do you know what he's making?" Owen snatched the bottle from my hand and returned it to its spot in the colorful, sparkling wall of cascading bottles behind the bar, aligning it so the label faced perfectly forward, as he had with every other bottle on the wall.

"No idea. I've been banished from the kitchen today." I took a bite of the treat and groaned.

"Makes it difficult to get to your apartment if you're not allowed in the kitchen." Owen glanced around the bar, looking for anything that needed doing. I knew because I'd been doing the same thing all day.

I'd been in business for seven years before my home had to be gutted and rebuilt. This wasn't my first day on the job, but I was nervous as hell. Instead of opening at noon, as we normally did, we postponed the grand reopening to five in the evening to make more of a party out of it.

Checking my watch, I admitted—if only to myself—the fear that had been losing me sleep. What if no one came? It had been months. Habits changed. Maybe they'd found new places to hang out that they liked better.

"It's time," Owen said.

Nodding, I pasted on a smile, braced for silence, and opened the wards protecting my bookstore and bar. They were magically linked to me and responded to my thoughts. A moment later, many footsteps pounded down the stairs and something tight and scared in me disappeared. Owen grinned, kissed me on the cheek, and went to greet our customers.

First in was Grim, an aptly named dwarf who had been sitting on the last stool at the bar every evening since I'd first opened. He wasn't a drunk. He was a man who enjoyed a tankard of mead at the end of the day. As he hopped onto his regular seat, I slid the tankard in front of him. And just like that, things were back to normal.

The bar filled quickly, with patrons overflowing into the connected bookstore. They collected scattered chairs and positioned them around a sofa in front of the glass wall. I wasn't the only one excited to see and talk with friends.

The first hour was a rush. People who never would have thought to hug Sam 1.0 were squeezing my hands, embracing me, even kissing me on the cheek. To say the last few months had been life altering was not an exaggeration. Whether by necessity or design, I'd kept myself separate and isolated. But now…well, right now, Owen's gorgeous boyfriend George was swinging me in a circle as his sister Coco shook her head, grinning.

Coco had never been here before. She was the extraordinary dragon shifter who had fashioned the choker I never removed, the one created to keep my mind safe from outside influence. My aunt, who was hell-bent on erasing me from existence, had used her considerable power to pull me into horrifying visions, ones intended to stop my heart. Coco had spelled an exquisite protective choker that kept my mind under my own control.

Not as tall as George, she had his broad shoulders, warm brown skin, and piercing green eyes. She was also a recovering alcoholic, which was why she had never visited before. Once George had set me back on my feet, Coco shook my hand.

"It's even more beautiful than I'd imagined." She kept her back to the bar, her gaze on the view. "I can't stay. Just wanted to wish you well on your first night."

"To thank you properly for coming, let me get you something."

When I reached behind her toward the bar, her eyes jittered. "No, thank you. I'm fine. I should probably—"

I held out the plate of chocolate coconut bars that Dave had made, offering my last two to George and Coco.

Releasing a gust of air, she nodded, taking a bar and a bite. The groan made me smile. George took the last bar and finished it quickly, all the while keeping a strong arm around his sister.

"I'm going to take Coco home. I'll probably be back near closing to pick up Owen."

Coco elbowed her brother. "You don't have to babysit me. I'm fine. Stay and have fun."

"Are you crazy? It's Springboks versus All Blacks. It's rugby night, woman." George gave me another kiss on the cheek, his arm never leaving his sister's shoulders. He waved at Owen before escorting Coco up the stairs and out.

An impact tremor rippled through the floor. When I turned, I found Meg drawing in her wings and glaring at the person sitting on the barstool she normally occupied. This was the drawback to having incredibly powerful patrons. They weren't used to waiting their turn. Meg was one of the Furies. She was an ancient Greek goddess of vengeance. I needed to get her a whiskey and a stool before a scourge appeared in her taloned hand.

Motioning to Owen, who was making drinks behind the bar, I pointed at the stool I kept in the corner. It was the one I used on quiet nights. He picked it up and passed it over heads to me. I set it down at the end of the bar, near Grim. As neither Meg nor Grim were talkers, I figured they could tolerate each other well enough. I waved Meg over to the empty stool as Owen slid a double of her favorite whiskey in front of her. Annoyed but placated, Meg sat.

The kitchen door swung open and Dave started scribbling on the menu board we'd recently installed. It was best for all involved when Dave didn't interact directly with customers.

In honor of Sam's recent trip to New Orleans, tonight's menu is Po'boys—crab, shrimp, hot sausage, or roast beef, served with fries or onion rings. No substitutes. Don't piss me off.

When Dave went back in the kitchen, Owen began circulating, taking orders. A low, fierce "Fuck" was breathed to my right. When I turned, I found Meg glaring at the bottom of the stairs.

"Nice place, kid."

I spun to find Stheno scanning the bar with her one good eye. With a yelp of excitement, I raced around the bar and hugged my favorite gorgon. She was stunning in a long white tank dress with high slits on either side that showed off glowing, olive skin. Her black corkscrew curls fell to the small of her back. She was still sporting an eye patch, but this one matched her dress.

"You came!" I'd really missed her.

"Said I would." She gave Horus—who may or may not have been the Egyptian sky god—I didn't like to pry—a long look. I'd never seen him anything but stoic. At Stheno's lascivious gaze, his dark skin colored. "You remember," she murmured, causing Horus to choke on his black and tan.

"I'm so happy to see you! Do you need a place to stay? My apartment is in the back."

Patting my arm, she said, "Thanks, but we're good."

"We're? Is Gabriel with you?" I was surprised he'd leave New Orleans when his Alpha was taking over as Master of the City.

"No, but that is one hot wolf. The things he could do with—well, this probably isn't the place to get into it." She winked. "Ask me later. No, ‘we' is my sisters. Every century or so, we get together for as long as we can stand each other."

"Wait. Both sisters? I thought Perseus cut off Medusa's head."

Cackling, she said, "He wishes. Men. Do they ever stop exaggerating their exploits? Or the size of their cocks?" She rolled her eyes. "Not including that wolf, because oof."

I stepped back behind the bar. "What can I get you?"

Nial, a tall, dapper elf with grass-green eyes and long, silvery blond hair, stood and offered Stheno his stool.

She looked him up and down, a hand trailing over his arm as she thanked him. "I think I'd like something tall and cool." She winked at Nial and then sat.

Nial put his lips to Stheno's ear and whispered something that had her eyes dilating.

"Yes. I'd like that very much. I need to talk to my girl first. After that, you're on." She fanned her face as he bowed formally and then moved to the steps to wait for her.

I slid a tall, pink drink in front of her. "So, that whole beheading Medusa story was a lie?"

"Mostly. He saw her reflection in his shield and then wet himself and ran." Shrugging, she took a long sip. "Mmm. So anyway," she said, looking over her shoulder at the hot elf waiting for her. "I need to go, but I wanted you to know we rented a house in Sea Cliff, a mile or so away. I'll bring Euryale and Medusa with me next time. Make sure you have lots of wine on hand. It's all they drink."

She hopped off her seat. "I'll be back. Just stopping in to say hi." Flipping off Meg—who I hadn't realized she'd seen—she dropped a twenty on the bar, collected her elf, and headed out. I'd missed her.

Later in the evening, the place was still crowded, but they'd settled in. I was cutting lemon wedges when I noticed Liam, a selkie and one of my regulars, push up through the water entrance. I'd been wondering where he was. He removed his seal skin, shifting to human. Ignoring the privacy robes I kept hanging by the ocean entrance, he walked toward the bar.

People called out greetings, a few whistling, but Liam didn't respond. Confused, I pushed aside the cutting board and grabbed a pint glass, drawing his favorite lager from the tap. This wasn't like him. True, many in the supernatural world had no issue with nakedness, but I knew for a fact that Liam did. He was the main reason I kept robes available for the water fae.

"Is everything okay?" I slid the beer in front of him.

Head cocked to the side, he stared, uncomprehending. A split second later, he snatched up the knife I'd dropped and dove over the bar, knocking me down. My head slammed against the hard wood floor. Momentarily stunned, I didn't react until I felt the knife slice into my neck. Claws drawn, I knocked his arm away, breaking the bone. Eyes still blank and uncomprehending, he wrapped his good hand around my neck and squeezed.

His eyes were wrong. I knocked his other arm and again heard a break. Not a second later, he was yanked off me and was hanging from Dave's meaty grip. Flames ran down Dave's arm, burning Liam, but still he hung limp and unresponsive.

"Stop! Drop him."

Dave complied but pinned Liam under his foot. "What the fuck was that?" he snarled.

I hadn't realized the bar had gone quiet until I stood and heard the collective gasp.

"Sam, you're bleeding!" Owen raced around the bar, clutching a bar towel. He pressed it to my neck, trying to stem the flow of blood.

Holding my hand over his, adding pressure, I studied Liam. "Look at him. He's not in there."

"Mom." Owen waved over his mother Lydia with his free hand. "Is it a curse?"

Dave dropped to a crouch and laid his hand on Liam's unblinking face.

When Lydia looked like she was readying a spell, I stopped her. "He's tracing it. Don't do anything."

A moment later, Liam jolted, curled into the fetal position, and shook.

Dave stood, his expression grim. "She's back."