I closed the door on magic long ago…the day it made me an orphan.
Ten years ago, the Coven of Fire sacrificed their lives—my mother among them—to hold off an overwhelming demonic force. Now it’s back.
As a poorly-paid bartender, how can any of this be my problem? But Callie, another orphan of that battle, swears I’m the key to reviving the coven. And there’s an incredibly sexy guardian stranded on my couch who’s promising to help me stop the demons and keep the veil between the realms standing.
One problem: I’ve never been able to use magic. Our local bad boy warlock assures me I have the talent, but even if I did, we don’t have enough witches to complete a coven. The only way to survive is to pull together this pack of magicborn misfits, who have more secrets than spells, into a makeshift coven.
Can we—three untrained witches, a sarcastic warlock, and an overly intense guardian—take back the city…before the demongate falls and the forces that killed my mother destroy us too?
~ Xpresso BT
“Uh, witch?” I could hear the irritation in my own voice, which meant he could too. But hey, I no longer worked at Sanctum. I didn’t have to treat Asher with kid-gloves because he was a regular. Sure, he had diamond-sharp cheekbones, but if magic was some big turn on for him, screw that. “I’m as Wont as Wont gets, remember?”
“Right.” Asher gave an incredulous little laugh. Then, when he saw I wasn’t kidding, I guess, he quirked his eyebrows, perplexed. “Who cast that deception spell on you, I wonder?”
I rolled my eyes. “Listen, it’s been fun exploring your witch fetish.” Not really. “But I’ve got a job interview—for a real job—and I need to get my head in the game.”
“Of course, that explains your kit.” Asher bowed sardonically. “Much more Wontish and respectable than the bar gig, I’m sure.” He gazed down at the stainless steel to-go cup in his hand as if deliberating. Knowing his penchant for whiskey, I wondered if it contained just coffee or something stronger. When he looked up again, his entire tone had shifted. To anger. “Alix, did you not hear a word your friend was trying to tell you?” His normally measured voice clipped, ultra-low. Whoa, what the hell was happening? The urbane man I’d flirted and joked around with so many times at the bar was now glaring daggers at me. “The scales are tipping. Every one of us magicborn must do our part…”
He went on ranting at me, but my brain stuck on two words: us magicborn. Us? So Asher wasn’t a tourist after all? My mind reeled as I ran through all the magicborn beings my mother had told me about, so long ago… There were witches, and guardians, of course. Shifters, who kept to the margins of city life. Fae, who avoided cities altogether. What was Asher?
Other than, spitting mad at me.
“Are you blind?” He motioned to the bustling foot traffic outside. “Or are you really that repressed that you can’t see that our local crowd is increasingly more demon than human?”
About the Author & Links:
Spells and skyscrapers. Warriors and warlocks. Coven secrets and forbidden romances. Sierra Cross lives for urban fantasy, for modern magic and the bold supernatural beings who stalk our contemporary world. Her Spelldrift universe stars kickass witches and their heroic guardians, as well as vampires, shifters, mages, Fidei, and the dark demonic forces that threaten them all.
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