Vicious Circle by Linda Robertson

Being a witch doesn’t pay the bills, but Persephone Alcmedi gets by between reading Tarot cards, writing her syndicated newspaper column, and kenneling werewolves in the basement when the moon is full–even if witches aren’t supposed to mingle with wolves. She really reaches the end of her leash, though, when her grandmother gets kicked out of the nursing home, and Seph finds herself in the doghouse about some things she’s written. Then her werewolf friend Lorrie is murdered…and the high priestess of an important coven offers Seph big money to destroy the killer, a powerful vampire named Goliath Kline. Seph is a tough girl, but this time she bites off more than she can chew. She needs a little help from her friends–werewolf friends. One of those friends, Johnny, the motorcycle-riding lead singer for the techno-metal-Goth band Lycanthropia, has a crush on her. And while Seph has always been on edge around this 6′2″ leather-clad hunk, she’s starting to realize that while their attraction may be dangerous, nothing could be as lethal as the showdown that awaits them. Read more

Desperation’s Dance by Melissa Ann Long

Sarah tiptoed through the stacks of boxes filling the spare bedroom, searching for one box in particular. Her heart raced as she scanned the make-shift masking tape labels, and a deep breath did nothing to keep her from feeling like she might pass out. One by one, Sarah began lifting boxes to make a direct path towards the closet. With each box she mumbled positive words of encouragement. “You can do this,” she coached herself. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” Although that wasn’t entirely true. There was plenty to be afraid of; lost souls haunting her dreams, their voices echoing in her head day and night, the more desperate ones latching onto her, feeding from her life-core. No. There was plenty to be afraid of.

Hands shaking, Sarah turned each box so that she could read its contents. Living room, living room, bath, kitchen…and then she found it, behind a tall stack, barely visible, peaking out from the mirrored closet.

Mom.

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