Wednesday, July 29, 2026

#Review - A Curse of Beasts and Magic by Jeaniene Frost #Fantasy

Series:
 
Beautiful and Beastly (#1)
Format: 368 pages, Hardcover
Release Date: May 26, 2026
Publisher: Bramble
Source: Publisher
Genre: Dark Fantasy

New York Times bestselling author of The Night Huntress series Jeaniene Frost returns with a brand-new series! It’s Beauty and the Beast meets The Witcher, except Beauty IS the Beast, and he’s the Warden keeping mythical beings in check in our world and beyond.

Raine Stone is living a nightmare. Ever since she survived the attack that killed her family, she's been hiding a terrible secret--and a Beast inside her.

It feeds on violence and chaos, but she restrains its urges by playing vigilante on the city streets. Until one night, Raine uses the Beast’s energy to heal an elderly gentleman from a seemingly random attack and discovers a new world of danger—literally.

Remington “Remy” Byrne knows the wall between a realm of deadly mythic creatures and our own world is very fragile. After all, he’s the Warden who guards the gateways between them. Raine’s Beast contains power that could tip the scales in a sinister plot against Remy’s rule—if she allies with him.

Will they be friends or foes…or will their dangerous attraction turn into something else? And can our world be saved by their explosive alliance?



A Curse of Beasts and Magic is the first installment in author Jeaniene Frost's Beautiful and Beastly series. The series is a dark contemporary romantasy/urban fantasy that flips the Beauty and the Beast premise so the heroine is the one carrying the Beast. The series marks the author's return, and it blends portal fantasy elements, action, political intrigue among mythical beings, and medium-heat romance.
 
Lorraine “Raine” Stone (26), an ER nurse, has lived with a secret for 11 years: after surviving the attack that killed her mother and grandmother, she carries “Beithíoch” inside her. It feeds on violence, chaos, and pain. She keeps it in check by drawing on the energy of her hospital shifts and by acting as a nighttime vigilante against street criminals, sometimes using the Beast’s power to heal others. One night she intervenes to save an elderly man from abduction, using that power in a way that draws the attention of his grandson, Remington “Remy” Byrne (243, not a typo). 

Remy is far more than the polished CEO he appears to be. He is a Warden—a powerful magic-wielder responsible for guarding gateways between the human world and parallel realms filled with dangerous mythic creatures (including dragon shifters and the Tuatha Dé Danann), enforcing truces, and overseeing supernatural beings in his territory. Raine’s Beast makes her both a threat and a potential asset amid a plot against Remy’s position. What begins as wary antagonism and a strategic alliance (including a fake engagement/relationship for protection and access) develops into genuine attraction and mutual reliance, set against escalating dangers that pull them between the everyday world and other realms. 

Raine is a determined, morally grounded survivor who has structured her entire life around containing something monstrous inside her. Her dual roles as caregiver (healer) and vigilante give her an appealing complexity; she is tough and resourceful yet isolated and sometimes naïve about the larger magical world she is suddenly thrust into. Reviewers often praise her heart and agency, even when noting occasional moments of impulsiveness or limited knowledge that feel realistic for her circumstances. 

Remy is a classic powerful, morally gray, somewhat overbearing Warden/CEO type—authoritative, secretive for strategic reasons, protective, and carrying his own burdens and walls. Chemistry builds through banter, forced proximity, shared danger, and gradual trust. Their dynamic leans enemies-to-lovers and fake-dating with strong “touch her and die” energy; many readers found the push-pull and eventual emotional payoff satisfying, though some wanted more open communication or a slower emotional burn. Supporting characters (including family elements that hint at found-family potential) add flavor, even if not all are deeply developed yet. 

Tropes include fake dating/engagement, enemies-to-lovers, forced proximity, morally gray hero, and monstrous secrets. Attraction is intense, and the physical chemistry is emphasized. Spice is moderate. Frost constructs a layered setting: the ordinary modern world intersects with fragile gateways to other realms, Wardens as magical law enforcement, aura-based perception of violence/power, and a mix of familiar (shifters, fae-adjacent beings) and distinctive elements (specific creature abilities, transportation methods, political machinations). 

Pacing is generally fast, driven by action, chases, and escalating threats, balanced by quieter character and relationship moments. Overall, I enjoyed the set-up and beginning of this story, and wish that had continued for a few more chapters without the rush to jump each other's bones. It felt like Raine was engulfed by too many plot points, additional characters, and magical politics to really shine. She does get a few moments at the end to kick some ass.



CHAPTER ONE

I had to let the Beast feed tonight. I didn’t want to, but if I didn’t, what came next would be a lot worse.

I hurried along the rain-slicked Baltimore streets. The Inner Harbor area was still packed with people even though it was midnight. I wasn’t here for one of its many bars or late-night eateries, though. It just happened to be between my apartment and the hospital where I worked.

I kept walking. It only took a few blocks past the Inner Harbor’s more touristy area for the neighborhood to noticeably change. Abandoned buildings and iron-gated windows now dotted the rows of townhouses and mostly closed businesses. Foot traffic was also down unless you passed a bar. I was passing one now, and two twenty-something guys spilled out of it. With a sloppy smile, the brunet staggered after me.

“Hey, hot stuff, come here,” he slurred.

“No thanks,” I said firmly, and tucked some of my long, too-curly brown hair back into its ponytail.

“Come on!” he tried again.

Did he really think catcalling would work, especially on someone wearing medical scrubs? He was lucky I didn’t take him up on his offer. Even now, my vision changed, showing red swirls haloing the catcaller’s gloomy gray aura.

I tried to sidestep him, but he reached out and yanked me against him.

“Not so fast!” His hands ran down my sides, and—

Darkness stabbed out from my fingernails, turning them into sharp claws. I sank them into the catcaller. The Beast inside me clamped onto that supernatural tether, burning through the violence in the man’s psyche.

He screamed, and the red flares in his aura dimmed.

I snatched my hand away, shoving him and that inner Beast back. Otherwise, the Beast would consume the catcaller’s life force once it was done feasting on his violence.

The catcaller nearly fell. His friend caught him before he hit the pavement. My claws vanished with the same speed as the burn marks in my would-be groper’s skin.

“What the hell, Jackson?” his friend hissed, pulling the catcaller away. “Sorry, he’s drunk,” he said to me.

Jackson sagged in his friend’s grip. He was barely conscious from the Beast devouring his violent energy. The red flares were now gone from Jackson’s aura, too, leaving him haloed by what looked like an ashen cloak.

“What happened?” Jackson managed to mumble.

You became a snack, I thought grimly, increasing my pace as I walked away. But unfortunately, I still need a meal.

I never intended to be a nurse by day and a violence-eating vigilante by night, but here I was, twenty-six and doing both. Okay, a little more than both. I’d also given secret, supernatural assistance to a patient during my nursing shift tonight, even though doing so had consequences.

Desperate animals will gnaw off their own paw if left long enough in a trap. Well, I was the Beast’s trap, and using its power to heal made it desperate enough to gnaw through me unless I fed it what it craved most—violence.

I reached the next intersection, looking ahead to see if the Walk or Stop light was on. A bright light suddenly seared my vision. For a second, I thought it might be a passing car’s headlights, and then I realized it belonged to a person.

That person moved out from behind a cluster of people waiting for the light to change. I expected to see a small, wide-eyed face. Auras that radiant usually came from children. Instead, I saw the wrinkled visage of an elderly man. He had pale skin, gray hair, and he was dressed like he’d been cosplaying as a nineteenth-century librarian.

Two men suddenly ran up behind the elderly man. Their auras were bloodred and unusually tall, looming and swaying over them. One pressed his hand against the man’s mouth and dragged him off in the opposite direction.

The light changed. People crossed the street, oblivious to what had happened behind them. It was so fast, I would have missed it, too, if I hadn’t been staring right at the elderly man.

I went after them. I normally didn’t take on two guys at once, but the old guy was in trouble. That made these kidnappers my next meal. When the Beast was done with them, they’d be alive, but like the catcaller, they’d be a lot less dangerous.

His kidnappers moved unusually fast. I ran, but I still couldn’t keep up. Thankfully, the man’s aura left a trail of light that I followed. It led into an alley behind a pawnshop.

I normally avoided this part of town, but I kept going. The Beast’s hunger grew with every step. It wanted to kill them. I wouldn’t let it. I couldn’t rid myself of the Beast, but I could damn sure keep it on a diet.

I caught up with the two captors in time to see them haul the man over a fence. Now they were in the back of a scrap metal depository. Moments later, I heard a cry: “Stop! That hurts!”

The Beast surged, sensing the violence. I didn’t free it—I never willingly did—but I didn’t force it all the way back.

The Beast’s power scalded me. My skin felt too tight and my pulse raced. I took my coat off, threw it over the fence, and cleared the six-foot height in one leap.

The kidnappers spun around. The hoods of their sweatshirts were now down, revealing that one was blond and the other had brown hair. The old man was on the ground, blood streaming down his forehead. The brown-haired kidnapper gripped a metal pipe, its edge dripping with crimson.

“Drop it,” I said.

They laughed.

I didn’t blame them. I was only five-four, with an average build, and I had no weapons. Well, none that they could see.

The Beast let out a growl through my throat that caused the two men to pale. Yeah, no normal person could make that sound.

“The hell?” the blond one whispered.

I sprang toward the pipe-wielding guy. My front kick smashed into his chest. He went down, the pipe clattering from his hand. Not laughing now, was he? With my mixed martial arts training plus the Beast’s added power, I’d kicked him harder than someone five times my size.

The blond guy lunged at me.

The Beast’s claws shot out. I was about to drive them into him when something knocked me over from behind. My forehead slammed onto the concrete. Pain filled me, my vision swam, and I tasted blood.

What the hell?

The dark-haired guy was still on the ground, and the blond was right in front of me. Who had hit me from behind?

I scrambled to my feet and whirled around.

Nothing. Whoever it was must’ve backed into the yard where the night’s shadows thickened to a dark gloom. The stench of cayenne and ozone washed over me, so thick I almost gagged.

I whirled back. The blond was still there, but the other kidnapper was gone. A huge snake now rose up to stare at me. Holy shit, that thing was bigger than a telephone pole!

“Whatever you are, you’re dead,” it hissed at me.

It could talk?

My shock was costly. The snake’s strike slammed into me like a giant hammer. I fell back. Coils wrapped around me. I tried to fight it off, but it squeezed me like a massive fist.

Air burst out of my lungs. I tried to suck more in and couldn’t. Panic strafed me. I’d known there had to be other supernatural creatures aside from the one inside me. Now I’d finally found one, and it was trying to kill me.

The stench of agave drowned me as those coils squeezed harder. My bones groaned. Pain slashed through me. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. I was being crushed to death.

My skin burned and a vicious inner slash felt like acid. I knew that pain. The Beast was here.

Everything went black, and—

—I spat out a mouth full of ashes. The wind tried to blow more back in. I clamped my lips shut.

I was in the middle of the metal yard, naked and bloody. Nothing was left of the huge snake or the other kidnappers except piles of cold ashes swirling in the night breeze.

Dammit, I hadn’t wanted to kill them. The thing inside me was a murderer, but I wasn’t. Not by choice. Now I’d killed again, and it had been someone with a supernatural secret like me. All the answers I could’ve finally gotten, gone. The frustration cut like a knife.

At least I kept them from murdering that poor man. Unless the Beast had killed him, too? I couldn’t see his bright aura anymore. The Beast was full and satiated, and it had sunk too deep within me.

“Sir?” I called out.

No answer.

My heart lurched. The Beast normally only ate the violent, making their red auras an Open for Dinner sign to my supernatural stowaway. Don’t ask me why it preferred them. No one gave me a Beast’s Guide to Binge Eating when I became infected with the thing eleven years ago. At first, I thought I might be a werewolf, but sadly not. If werewolves were real, those lucky fuckers only had to deal with their inner monsters one weekend a month. I had to deal with mine every single day.

But if the Beast was hungry enough, it would eat anyone, violent or no.

“Where are you, sir?” I called out again, snatching my coat off the fence where I’d left it.

“Here,” a pained voice groaned.

I put my coat on and ran toward his voice.

I found the man slumped by a large heap of scrap metal piled up for sorting. Blood streamed from his head, and clear liquid that might have been spinal fluid leaked from his nose. If I didn’t do something, he’d die.

I put my hands on his head while pulling on the Beast’s power. Three minutes later, I was bent over, vomiting from channeling too much magic, too fast.

Gentle hands smoothed back my hair. “There now, lass,” the man said in a lilting Irish accent. “You’re all right.”

My gag turned into a choked laugh. I sat back, wiping at my mouth. “More importantly, how are you?”

He gave me the sweetest smile. “Alive, thanks t’you. Thought you meant to kill me when you turned into a beithíoch.”

Did he just call me a “behemoth”? Eh, that was a kind descriptor compared to whatever the Beast was. More importantly, I’d healed him, but now I had to leave town. Again. At best, whichever police officer took the man’s report would think that he was overwrought from the attempted kidnapping, but I couldn’t take that risk. Not after nearly getting arrested in Georgia last year.

I bit back my disappointment. I was just starting to get comfortable here. I had a decent job, a place to live where the neighbors didn’t question my late-night comings and goings, and even a pet now. Still, safety beat out comfort.

“Do you have someone to call to pick you up?” I asked him.

He gave me a look of such heartbreaking confusion, I patted his arm. As a nurse, I’d seen that look on countless dementia patients before. He didn’t remember who to call.

“Do you know your name?” I asked in a softer voice.

His whole body trembled as he said, “No.”

“It’s fine,” I said, patting him again. “I can still help you. Do you mind if I look in your pockets?”

He didn’t mind, but to my dismay, he lacked a phone, wallet, or any identification. He only had a single, laminated business card with FRONTVIEW REPUBLIC printed on the front and a handwritten phone number on the back.

My brows went up. Frontview Republic was one of the largest commercial real estate and investment corporations in the Northeast. Their name had been splashed across headlines recently due to a big project in Maryland and Pennsylvania.

“Stay here,” I said, and searched for the rest of my stuff.

I found my clothes and purse near the bloodstains and ash piles. The huge snake and the other kidnappers must have put up a hell of a fight. The Beast normally killed too quickly to draw anyone’s blood.

I couldn’t believe I’d finally come across another supernatural creature, only to still end up knowing nothing.

Rain started pouring in sheets. I used the deluge to wash the blood off my face and hands. Then I shoved the remains of my ripped-up medical scrubs into my coat’s deep pockets. The rain should wash away all the kidnappers’ blood as well as their ashes, leaving no trace of their deaths behind.

I returned to the man and led him to an awning that blocked most of the rain. Thankfully, my burner phone was working, which meant the Beast had been free at least ten minutes. Nothing electronic worked around the Beast when it first took over. I dialed the number on the business card and put it on speaker while I checked the man for more injuries.

“Who is this?” a smooth baritone voice answered.

“Is this Frontview Republic?” I asked.

“Who is this?” the voice repeated with such command that I almost said “Raine Stone” before I caught myself.

The man’s condition was tragic, but it had also saved me. He could tell everyone that he’d seen a woman transform into a huge creature that had killed two men plus a huge snake, and no one would believe him. Maybe I didn’t have to move again after all.

“Do you know a sixty-something man with an Irish accent who dresses like he raided a Sherlock Holmes movie set?” I asked.

“Yes.” His tone changed to palpable menace. “Where is he?”

“Safe,” I replied shortly. “But he very nearly wasn’t. Some men kidnapped him and almost killed him tonight.”

“Oh?” The man’s tone now became so velvety, I swore I almost felt it brush over me. “If you assisted in his rescue, then you will be well rewarded. Once again, where is he?”

“You must be rich,” I said with all the annoyance I wasn’t allowed to articulate when I was at work. “Only the wealthy think people help others for a reward instead of the simple reason that someone needed help.”

Anger replaced that luxurious tenor. “If you don’t tell me where Brendan is right now—”

“Brendan!” A delighted expression lit the man’s face. “My name is Brendan! And that’s Remy. He takes care of me. Don’t worry, Remy. The beithíoch is helping me.”

Okay, that word wasn’t “behemoth.” It had too many vowels, but new words were the least of my concerns. Headlights shone along the road that ran between the recycling plant and the train tracks; a reminder that someone could stumble upon us.

“He’ll be at the Helping Hands Shelter in twenty minutes,” I said, and hung up. Then I smiled and held out my hand. “Brendan? Would you escort me down the street? It’s not safe for a lady to walk alone.”

His smile deepened his wrinkles. He’d seen the Beast inside me, so he knew I didn’t need “escorting.” Still, he held out his arm while his periwinkle-blue eyes brightened.

“I’d be delighted.”



CHAPTER TWO



I watched from across the street as Brendan walked the final block to the shelter alone. I’d been right to be cautious. Before Brendan reached the front door, a black Mercedes sped down the street and screeched to a stop beside him.

“Remy!” I heard Brendan say before a tall figure leapt out. I caught a glimpse of black hair, broad shoulders, and a shadowed jaw before the man hustled Brendan into the back seat.

The car sped away at once.





Monday, July 27, 2026

#Review - The Killing Time by Elly Griffiths #Mystery #Suspense

Series:
 Ali Dawson # 2
Format: 
353 pages, Kindle Edition
Release Date: February 12, 2026
Publisher: Pamela Dorman Books
Source: Publisher
Genre: Mystery, Suspense

The second mystery following Ali Dawson, the brilliant time-traveling detective, on her newest foray into Victorian London

Detective Ali Dawson leads a unit that investigates cases so cold her team must travel back in time to solve them. But ever since their technical expert, Jones, got stuck in Victorian London, Ali and her team have been forbidden from time travel.

At a loss, Ali dives into a present-day case – an apparent suicide of a young man who fell to his death from a high building. Ali believes the death is linked to a bad-news psychic medium, Barry Power, who convinced the boy he could fly. Suspicious, Ali attends one of Power’s shows, where he claims to be in contact with none other than Jones.

Minor trouble closer to home inspires Ali to sneak back in time just long enough to prevent misfortune. Her plan backfires, and she finds herself once again in Victorian London, where she reencounters Jones, as well as the darkly mysterious Cain Templeton, with whom Ali has unfinished business from her previous visit to the nineteenth century . . .

When she spies Barry Power lurking in the past, Ali knows she's onto something. But with a potential murderer operating in multiple centuries, how on earth is she supposed to protect everyone at risk?

It's a different time. It's a dangerous time. It's the killing time. The story alternates between Contemporary and Victorian London. 


The Killing Time is the second installment, following The Frozen People, in author Elly Griffiths' Ali Dawson series. The story alternates between 2024 and 1850 London. It centers on Detective Ali Dawson and her specialized London Met cold-case unit (nicknamed the Frozen People or Department of Logistics). The team’s secret tool is time travel, used for cases so old that visiting the past is the only way to gather evidence. 

Since the events of The Frozen People left one member of the "Department of Logistics" dead and another stranded in 1850s Victorian London, Ali and her remaining colleagues (Dr Bud Sirisema, Dina Appiah, and John Cole) are somewhat hamstrung, forbidden by Home Office hierarchy from conducting any further forays into the past, and confined to investigating cold cases via more mundane methods. In the present (set around a 2024 heatwave and election period), Ali is restless and frustrated by routine work. 

She digs into an apparent suicide: a young man who fell from a high building after being influenced by charismatic psychic medium Barry Power, who convinced him he could fly. Ali attends one of Power’s shows, where he makes an unsettling claim involving Jones. When her beloved cat Terry goes missing (via an open cat flap), Ali makes a reckless short-hop attempt to fix a minor domestic problem. 

The plan backfires spectacularly, stranding her in 1851 London—where she reunites with Jones, crosses paths again with the enigmatic Cain Templeton (unfinished business from the prior visit), and discovers Barry Power has connections that span the centuries. Meanwhile, in Ali's absence, two men are murdered in 2025, both having received mysterious postcards related to classic films. Dana and D.I. John Cole become embroiled in the investigation, along with DS Luca Venturi and the evident links that both victims have to Ali, who remains stuck in Victorian London. 

Griffiths handles the dual timelines with characteristic skill. Modern-day sections ground the story in Ali’s professional frustrations, family ties (including her son Finn), and the banter among her team. The Victorian sections shine brightest: 1851 London feels lived-in and textured, with the grime, social contrasts, the Great Exhibition in full swing, period details of domestic life (or lack of modern conveniences), and a sense of menace and opportunity. Griffiths’ research brings the era alive without slowing the pace into textbook mode. 

Ali remains a highly engaging protagonist—sharp, stubborn, flawed, funny, and morally driven. Her domestic details (especially the cat Terry, who becomes an unexpectedly memorable supporting player) and interactions humanize the high-concept elements. Supporting characters, both returning and new (Victorian maids offering class insights, showmen and illusionists, the unsettling Cain), add color and emotional stakes. 

The tone is a key strength: high stakes and genuine darkness sit comfortably alongside warmth, wit, and humanity. It never feels gimmicky; the time-travel paradoxes and rules are treated with enough internal consistency and playfulness to work for most readers who accept the premise. The mystery itself—linking modern “suicides” influenced by a medium to events in the past—has a contemporary edge involving manipulation, belief, and vulnerability.

It drives Ali effectively, but the killer’s identity can feel abrupt or underdeveloped, and certain time-travel mechanics (chairs, the Seeing Glass, and how animals or people shift eras) stretch suspension of disbelief more than in the first book. The dual timelines occasionally create a sense of loose ends or uneven pacing, with the Victorian sections sometimes dominating. 




Thursday, July 23, 2026

#Review - Witch Season by Julia Blanco #Fantasy #Romance

Series:
 The Broken Coven # 1
Format: 
320 pages, Hardcover
Release Date: June 30, 2026
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Source: Publisher
Genre: Fantasy, Romance

Katherine Barnes is an enforcer, charged with upholding the rules of the notorious Los Angeles-based Aestas coven. It’s her job to maintain order and bring unsettled witches–people who aren’t aware they have magic until it explodes out of them in a catastrophic burst–into the coven’s fold. As a former unsettled witch, Katherine owes her life to Sylvia Page, coven leader and silver-haired rebel who founded Aestas years ago.

When Silas Khatri, heir to Noctis, the most powerful coven in the world, arrives to take Aestas to task for some of their more unconventional practices, Katherine’s dislike for him reaches blistering levels. She hates his money, his good looks, his coven’s dangerous attitude towards unsettled witches. She can absolutely overlook that he sets her off in more ways than one.

But a powerful threat is about to rise. Stronger than any one coven. More insidious than the decades-long power struggle that exists in the hidden witch world. One that will pull Katherine and Silas together despite their differences. And one that will lead to an all-out war.


Julia Blanco's Witch Season is the first installment in a new series, as well as the author's debut novel. The book is an urban fantasy story in a world of fantasy/romance novels that blends high-stakes coven politics, visceral magic, and fierce loyalty into a fast-paced, cinematic read set in modern Los Angeles. Katherine Barnes serves as an enforcer (or executor) for the Aestas coven, a notorious Los Angeles group. Her role involves maintaining order and guiding “unsettled” witches—people whose latent magic erupts catastrophically if not controlled—into the coven. 

As a former unsettled witch herself, Katherine owes everything to Sylvia Page, the coven’s silver-haired, rebellious leader. The magic system stands out as one of the book’s strongest elements. Magic demands a heavy price—not just blood, but real pain and sacrifice. It feels raw, dangerous, and grounded, avoiding the “sparkly effortless power” trope common in some fantasy. This cost shapes every character’s choices and adds tension to action scenes. 

When Silas Khatri, heir to the powerful Noctis coven (the most influential in the witch world), arrives for an audit of Aestas’s unconventional practices, sparks fly immediately. Katherine resents his privilege, good looks, and his coven’s stricter attitudes toward unsettled witches. Their initial antagonism crackles with tension, but a larger, insidious threat—stronger than inter-coven rivalries—forces them to collaborate. Murders, betrayals, and a rising war pull the story toward an explosive climax. 

Katherine Barnes is tough, loyal, and driven by her traumatic past. She pushes herself relentlessly to protect others, especially vulnerable, unsettled witches, because she sees herself in them. Her growth, moral compass, and vulnerability make her deeply relatable and root-worthy. Silas Khatri brings complexity as a privileged heir caught between family duty and personal desires. He’s charming and instantly smitten in a “she hates him, he’s hooked” dynamic. 

Sylvia Page steals scenes as a layered mentor figure with secrets that drive major twists. Supporting characters, including Katherine’s best friend and other coven members, add depth to the found-family and political elements. The romance is fiercely romantic and steamy. It moves quickly from antagonism to intense attraction. Expect tension, banter, and passionate moments amid the danger. 

The relationship evolves in ways that set up intriguing conflict for future books. If you are a fan of books like A Discovery of Witches, then you should read this book as well. If you enjoy witchy books that are political, bloody, unhinged in the best way, and packed with heart-pounding romance and betrayal, this one is for you.





Monday, July 20, 2026

#Review - Unpredictable Magic by Faith Hunter #Urban #Fantasy

Series:
 Everhart Investigations # 1
Format: 
560 pages, Paperback
Release Date: July 14, 2026
Publisher: Ace
Source: Publisher
Genre: Urban Fantasy

Witches Angelina and Evan Everhart-Trueblood take a case that spirals out of control until the whole city is at risk in this exciting new novel from New York Times bestselling author Faith Hunter.

Angelina Everhart-Trueblood and her brother Evan run Everhart Investigations, a PI firm in Chattanooga that solves paranormal crimes committed by supernatural beings. When their new client wants help finding her friend, who supposedly disappeared during a reception at Angie’s aunt Jane’s winter residence, things get . . . complicated.

The client is not who she appears to be, and demons strike the city for the first time since the Witch War. On top of that, evidence is pointing toward the involvement of an overly ambitious vampire—who just happens to be Angie’s ex-husband.

As Angie and Evan team up with CPD, they will have to dig deep into their magical reserves—and rely on some friends in high places—to rid Chattanooga of the danger creeping into their city. Story Set in Chattanooga, Tennessee. Spin-off of the author's Jane Yellowrock series. 

Unpredictable Magic is the first installment in author Faith Hunter's Everhart Investigation series. This is a direct spin-off of the author's Jane Yellowrock series, set 20 years in the future. The novel follows witch siblings Angelina (“Angie”) and Evan (“EJ”) Everhart-Trueblood as they run their own paranormal private investigation firm in Chattanooga, Tennessee, focusing on paranormal issues. Angie and Evan take on a seemingly straightforward missing-person case tied to a reception at their aunt Jane Yellowrock’s (the Dark Queen) winter residence. 

The investigation quickly spirals: the client isn’t what she seems, demons attack the city for the first time since the Witch War/Demon War, and evidence implicates an ambitious vampire—Angie’s ex-husband, as well as other dangerous vampires who desire to eliminate Jane. The siblings team up with Angie's former love interest, Detective Villati, and are joined by Walter, their vampire bodyguard; Jane Yellowrock; Eli Younger; and Alex Younger, all while trying to maintain independence from Jane's court. 

Angie (often in first-person POV) grapples with the aftermath of a difficult marriage to a vampire who took advantage of her, and begins unlocking her full magical potential. Evan (frequently in third-person POV) carries his own scars from the Witches' War, where he was the youngest officer to serve, and brings a protective, tech-savvy edge. (Here is where I wanted more information on the war, although the author does hint at Evan's specialty. In fact, the author could write a novella explaining more about Evan and Angie's role in the War itself.) 

There is also the appearance of Cousin Wacko, aka Shiloh Everhart-Stone, a witch-vampire hybrid, whom I would love to see a full novel written from her POV. Her life hasn't been the same since she was turned at 15. The book is dense with lore, history, and explanations—especially in the opening sections as readers (and the protagonists) learn about their magic and the political landscape. Action sequences are fast, visceral, and satisfying, with magic battles and demon incursions keeping momentum high once things kick off. 

If you have NOT read the Jane Yellowrock series, you will likely be lost by any mention of characters from it. The story retains the gritty, battle-heavy, politically intricate style of Jane Yellowrock but feels fresher with younger leads establishing their independence and running a PI firm. The investigative mystery element is stronger here, blended with supernatural thriller vibes. It delivers the signature Faith Hunter blend of intricate world-building, high-stakes magic battles, supernatural politics, and character-driven drama, while giving fans a fresh perspective through the lens of the next generation. 



Chapter One
Angie

The music was so heavy the bass reverberated in my chest cavity. The lead singer of Kegs and Boots's house band, BloodSin-a vamp who considered himself a heartthrob-had hit an oddly off-key note three times now. It was weird enough to make it impossible to relax fully, to close my eyes and sink into the music and just freaking let go, which I really, really needed after the crazy week and the queen's reception.

People assumed being goddaughter to the Dark Queen of the fangheads was exciting, and sometimes, rarely, it was. But typically, being royalty was tedium: shaking hands, smiling until my cheeks ached, making small talk, and dancing ancient gavottes with five-hundred-year-old vamps. All that, while wearing a sparkly dress and five-inch heels for five hours straight.

Eardrum-busting rock music usually made all that better, but Labaka's fourth off-key note made my eyes pop open, which was why I saw the man approach our empty table, circle it, and walk away. I didn't reclose my eyes.

Our drink goblets and flutes were empty. I hadn't seen the man drop anything into a glass. My arms over my head, my body swaying to the beat, I turned my back to the band, keeping him in sight. Good looking, well-coiffed, he wandered the room by a circuitous route, stopping at a table full of men to clap one guy on the back, give a fist bump to another. Friendly guy. Knew some of the regulars. A moment later, he bent over a table full of women, attempting to flirt. The women waved him off, laughing. He left with a smirk that promised he'd be back. Idiot.

Or dangerous.

Deep inside, something whispered dangerous.

My precog gift or simple paranoia? Which one? Was the guy about to actually do something bad, or was he just a guy with the potential to do something bad? Maybe both. He moved on to chat up two women at a solo table. I didn't have to be a witch to know the two were together and he was wasting his time, but he didn't give up.

Precog or paranoia-my life litany since I was a kid. I'd once known which was which, back when I had an honest-to-God guardian angel, a vampire knight in shining armor, and unlimited witch power. Now, not so much. Being grown up, single again after a bad marriage, and a royal "princess by decree" wasn't all popcorn and lollipops.

In the crowd, I found Corry, KeeKee, and Lissa, the girls I'd gone clubbing with. Safe. Or they should have been. That not-quite-precog nudged me again.

I didn't close my eyes and kept Mr. Smarmy firmly in view. When the dance number ended, I dropped my arms and slipped a hand into a pocket, gripping a small labradorite duck.

The half-inch carved duck had been given to me at the start of my freshman year of college by my Aunt Liz, a stone witch. University was far behind me, but I never discarded an amulet that had been permanently imbued with a working, keeping them charged on one of the stone batteries Aunt Liz had made me, taking useful amulets with me when I was away from home. There was a hole drilled in the duck's head so it could be attached to a necklace or bracelet, but I no longer wore my amulets in public. I couldn't easily hide them under the glamour I wore while out clubbing, and keeping my identity as Angelina Everhart-Trueblood, the Dark Queen's goddaughter and a princess, secret, was the only way I got to go out and have a little fun.

It was different at work. Everhart Investigations Firm relied on the name recognition from both witches and the vamps to bring in new customers. The hypocrisy didn't elude me, though the double standards' sour taste in the back of my throat had decreased over the years.

Tonight, I was thoroughly glamoured in multi-green: eyes, spiky braided green wig, clothing that looked like leaves, even a green tint to my skin. My amulets were hidden in lead-lined pockets, a vamp-killer strapped to my thigh. The witch princess had been replaced by Baby, my club name.

As I made my way off the dance floor, a man's hand encircled my upper arm.

Instinct seized me. I took one step left, my left hand reaching across my body to his wrist. Ready to use his momentum and my body's torque to pull him over my outstretched right leg. Fast. Automatic.

"Hey. Baby. Whyn't you and me have a beer?" Smooth voice. Mesmerizing tones. Labaka, BloodSin's lead singer. Fangs, slick tone, gorgeous, and dumber than a box of rocks. I released his wrist and gripped his little finger, pulling it back just enough to hurt. Reversed my stance, pulled him around by the finger, and squared off with him, our position still keeping our table in view.

Labaka sometimes claimed Indian and Hindu heritage, other times Khmer Rouge, still others Egyptian. I had never been interested enough to check his dossier. He had long black hair, medium brown skin, dark eyes, and a unique vamp-smolder.

"Not interested, Labaka. Same as last week. Same as the week before."

"Come on. Gimme a chance, Baby. I can do things-" His other arm went around my waist.

I can do things. Sure you can. No one did things better than a vamp. Once bitten, twice shy. In this case, literally.

Twisting his pinkie with a rotating gesture, I continued my pivot, going to our table.

He grunted and fell behind, trying to keep up, tripping once over his own feet as I dragged him by the little finger. Idiot. I had never gotten physical with Labaka before. I had never felt this tepid warning of danger in Kegs and Boots either.

I spotted my gal pals together at the end of the bar, still safe in a crowd. I pushed Labaka toward a woman in our path and she grabbed him in a purely physical embrace, cupping his butt in both hands. Labaka forgot all about me.

Sitting, I tossed my wig's spiky green braid over my shoulder, studying our drink glasses. To the naked eye, they looked fine. But. Under the pretense of shoving the empties out of the way, I touched each rim, the duck in my fingers.

The amulet looked like a simple trinket until it detected certain drugs, like old-fashioned roofies, X, pong-a newer synthetic opiate-and even real oldies like LSD and Mollies. It also detected some common chemical poisons including arsenic, strychnine, cyanide, and a few dozen natural bio-poisons such as hemlock and belladonna. If it came into contact with the drugs, it flashed blue. If it found poisons, it gleamed a pinkish hue, the depth of the color indicating the drug. As amulets went, the working contained in it was sophisticated, very popular among the college set and bar hoppers. The working had made the Everhart-Trueblood family coven a lot of money when it went on the market.

The duck didn't change. No flash of color, no lights, no danger that it could detect.

Maybe the good-looking guy was just a random creep checking out the place. I was paranoid with good reason, but still, paranoid was paranoid.

I looked for Smarmy, but he was lost in the crowd. KeeKee's pink Afro was still at the bar and, near her, Lissa's brown hair glistened with fairy light. Labaka was suddenly in front of me, leaning backward against the bar, supported by his elbows, his shirt open to reveal a smooth chest and chains that looked like real gold, his gorgeous eyes on me. Vamps were turned only when a Blood Master had a need of, or a desire for, a human. Labaka had been chosen for his looks and his singing voice. I had to give him one thing: he was persistent in his attempts at seduction.

Lissa and KeeKee threw themselves into their chairs at the table, each with fresh drinks, Lissa gulping hers down. "Where's Corry?" I asked.

"Some cute dude bought us drinks. She's chatting him up," KeeKee said. She turned and pointed. But Corry was nowhere in sight.

I stood so fast, I knocked over my chair, ordering, "Don't drink." Darting toward the right side of the bar, around it, I headed to the entrance. From the corner of my eye I saw Lissa shove her drink away. Saw Labaka's gaze follow me as he instantly stood straight.

According to my internal clock, less than two minutes had passed from the moment I took my eyes off Smarmy. Long enough to drug Corry. Long enough to be halfway to a vehicle with a stumbling, compliant woman.

Corry had red hair, near enough like mine, when I was unglamoured, to pass for me in a dark bar.

And there was still a bounty on my head from that one blood duel that had gone sideways. Only an idiot would try to collect-Son of a witch.

I slammed open doors, scanning each room. No sign of her in the ladies' room. Nor in the lobby. I burst out the entry door, nearly ramming the bouncer. The cold hit me like a fist. "Berky. Have you seen Corry?"

Berky was six-four, a good three hundred, heavily tattooed over every inch of skin not scarred during the Witch War. "Walked off with Tony Montgomery, guy in the Scorpion MAGXL. Sweet ride."

"Where!"

"Chill, Baby. I checked her out. She was fine, chatty, happy as-"

I whirled on Berky. Looked at him with all the power I possessed. "Where. Is. His. Car."

Berky shut up and pointed.

The Scorpion's backup lights came on.

I gave Berky the look, the one I'd learned from Koun, the Dark Queen's war strategist. "You're with me," I ordered.

"Fuck."

Yeah. He'd let a guest get lured away.

Berky lumbering behind me, I dashed toward the Scorpion, a Mag-car. It had an Octi paint job, automatically blending into whatever the driver wanted. Right now, that meant the car had no color at all, opaque, dark as the night. Scorpions were silent and fast as sin.

Tony wanted stealth.

I yanked out a disrupter amulet and pulled my vamp-killer from my thigh as I ran. I initiated the amulet and tossed it at the Scorpion Mag. It attached itself to the back panel. Three seconds until it worked.

One second: The vehicle whipped for the driveway.

Two seconds: I grabbed the wheel well and spun myself onto the hood. Landed with a thump that dented the synth-metal. Caught my grip into the space between hood and windshield.

I had never hit an electromagnetic-powered engine with a disruptor. It might explode. It might fizzle. Anything in between.

Three seconds: Berky cursed. Grabbed the door handle as if he'd stop the car by sheer muscle power.

The disruptor activated. My magic sizzled over the vehicle, interfering with every circuit, every electrical thingamajig, every sensor, every freaking object, gadget, and security feature that used tech. The Scorpion died. Its wheels locked up. The car skidded to a stop.

I didn't have fangs, but I showed my teeth at my reflection in the black windshield. Vicious. Snarling. Green as a leprechaun.

Berky slammed a fist with brass knucks into the driver's window repeatedly. More as an annoyance than to any real effect. These cars were designed during the Witch War, with Witch War tech. The window glass could withstand most anything.

Knowing the car's cameras were down and the security cams for the bar out of sight, I dropped my glamour for a count of two and then reestablished it. I could almost feel the reaction from the guy inside.

Yeah. You drugged the wrong chick. Now you got me to deal with.

I released my hold on the car, kneeling on the hood. Green reflected back at me from the black glass. Like a green gnome with attitude. I removed a small earring from my left earlobe. Held it over the windshield. Still grinning. Giving the guy inside a chance.

"Baby. Stop, girl."

Smooth voice with a vampire push of mesmerism. Labaka. Damn. I risked a glance to both sides. Behind Labaka were six more guys, a mixture of vamp and human. Not the band, but the table full of men that Tony Montgomery, or whoever he really was, had spoken to. What had Labaka gotten me into?

I thumbed the amulet, dropping it into the space between the windshield and hood. Shoved off from my knees, leaping, and landed on the roof. Whirled my vamp-killer in my offhand and tossed two reverse hedge of thorns amulets at the men. In an instant two of my opponents were trapped in energy cages.

Four guys charged.

Berky had reacted to the presence of more men. He stopped smashing at reinforced windows and rushed from the car like a freight train. Rammed his fist down on top of a vamp's head. The guy dropped like a stone. Blood gushed from his mouth. Maybe bit off his tongue. Berky jammed a stake into the vamp's belly.

That left three humans and Labaka. Can't kill humans. Couldn't let them take me either.

Do the unexpected. A memory from my past.

I gripped two stasis amulets and leaped at the men. I was still in the air when a vehicle whirled into the parking area. Headlights lit us up, flickering shadows jittering like zombies.

Whirling, horizontal, I kicked out. Landed only a glancing blow on one as they both moved smoothly to the side. Training. I hit the pavement off balance. Between them. On one foot and hand. Skidded on the old-fashioned asphalt. Caught myself and pivoted on that hand. Left some skin from my palm on the parking lot.

In my peripheral vision I saw one guy holding a gun. He fired. I was already rolling.