Go do your thing, magic girl.

I think when magic is dark enough, it can look like anything it wants.

It was not accustomed to being summoned.

Thing about witches; we're a paranoid lot. Call it a side effect of living in a world obsessed with seeing you burn.

I swear. Tell someone you're a vampire or a werewolf and they think it's sexy. Tell someone you're a witch and they go from zero to Torquemada in three seconds flat.

What was she doing here? Private detectives were for insecure housewives, parents of troubled teens, bent old ladies who'd forgotten where they parked. She was none of the above. She was a sane, stable, capable adult. Yet here she was.Desperate times, and all that.

Bez blew out a breath and leaned heavily against the bar. "Honestly, D, you're better off busting your subversive cherry with something else. A nice werewolf killing. A vampire blood drive.

Something about the floating club reminded him of Wonderland. Not Disney's Wonderland, either, but Wonderland according to Lewis Carroll: dark, sumptuous. Treacherous. It was the sort of place where anything could happen...and probably did. He had a feeling if a deranged, bloodthirsty monarch suddenly swept in and started demanding people's heads, no one would bat an eye.

Wrong. This was wrong. A list of words raced through his head. Apostate, heretic, pagan.Witch.