New Releases

Here you will find information about the latest releases from Faith Hunter.

Unpredictable Magic (Jane Yellowrock World) released on July 14, 2026.

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.

Click here to read a sample of Unpredictable Magic, or you can purchase from Amazon, Kobo, Barnes & Noble, and Apple Books. Unpredictable Magic is also available in audiobook format at Amazon, Kobo, Barnes & Noble, and Apple Books. Print editions can be purchased at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

From Chapter One…

Angie

The music was so heavy the bass reverberated in my chest cavity, but the lead singer of Kegs and Boots’ 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 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 being 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, dark 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 out and the security cams for the bar were 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 off-hand 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 one 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.

The new car came to a halt. The doors opened. I tossed the stasis amulets. The guy with the gun fell slowly. The guy I had clipped with my toes vanished into the dark. My amulet hit the pavement and rolled.

Labaka flashed his fangs at the new car and pulled a vamp-killer. Dumber than rocks.

The driver—tall, dark, and half gorgeous—stepped like a dancer from his vehicle. New guy was Walter, wearing a black business suit, white shirt, and shiny shoes. His presence meant I’d been monitored by security all night, and Walter—the bodyguard who was blood-sworn to the queen to keep her godchildren safe—had left a meeting or a date to come save me. I was in trouble, one way or another.

Labaka turned on Walter. Slashing out with a vamp-killer.

Walter stepped inside the strike, knocked the short-sword away with a single block. Hit Labaka smack in the nose with the heel of his other hand. As the singer dropped, Walter caught him and slammed his head against his own car until the vamp went boneless. He threw Labaka ungently into his vehicle like a bale of hay.

A weapon fired, cracking from the dark. Walter stumbled. Vamped out. Tore into the night. Three more gunshots sounded. Close. Deafening. Six seconds after vanishing into the dark, Walter reappeared, a limp man dangling over his shoulder. “I quite liked this suit,” he said casually, his old-fashioned upper-class British accent telling me more than anything that he was pissed.

KeeKee and Lissa were standing inside the club, peeking out the open door, eyes and mouths wide. They knew me from college, knew about me being the queen’s godchild. But it wasn’t like I had ever displayed my fighting abilities or my magic to them. I had no idea how much they had seen.

As he walked toward his car, Walter looked me over for injuries, studied the downed opponents, shook his head, and dropped the unconscious man at Berky’s feet. “This one is all yours.”

The big bouncer looked from the unconscious man to Walter. “What am I supposed to do with him.”

“Give him, give all of them, to the police,” Walter said, sounding eminently practical. “This looks like a terrible bit of gang warfare.”

Berky looked around at all the prone bodies. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Of course it does,” Walter said. “His weapon is in his suit pocket; his rounds mostly hit the club. The other rounds are inside me, so I’ll hang on to them a bit.”

“No silver in them?” I asked too softly to carry. Silver was poison to vamps.

“Oddly enough, no. I’m quite curious why.” Walter walked to the broken Scorpion.

“Disruptor?” he asked me.

“Yeah.” I was still breathing fast. It was freaking damn cold. My breath was a white mist on the night air. My skin prickled into chillbumps. Belated shivers seized me. My palm hurt like a mother. “I also dropped a second disruptor into the engine area to disable the locks, brakes, and open hidden compartments.”

“Good choice,” Walter said, his voice mild. “I’ll open the door. You get Corry. I’ll deal with the gentleman inside.”

“He’s no gentleman.”

“Mmmm. I find that appallingly evident.”

I followed Walter to the side of the car where none of Kegs and Boots’ security cams or my friends could see us. Walter tried the lock, but either my disruptor hadn’t worked or Tony had an update anticharm on some of his security measures. Walter placed a slim tubular device against the door handle. Tech stuff, not magic, but I wasn’t prejudiced. The lock clicked.

Walter tore the door off its hinges with one effortless-looking wrench, and then slammed it into the driver’s face. Tony Montgomery—or whoever he really was—slumped. Blood shot everywhere. Walter tossed the door into the shadows, lifted Tony by his shirt and pulled him out. One-armed, he flung Tony over his shoulder, a trail of blood adding to the ruin of his once–very expensive black suit. Walter walked to his vehicle, where he tossed Tony on top of the singer. With a remote, Walter rearranged the seating arrangement into conference mode, and stepped gracefully into his car, facing the vamp and the human. The doors closed.

On auto-drive, the vehicle moved silently out of the parking lot and into the night. I didn’t envy the two men the next few hours.

I also didn’t envy the coming tongue-lashing about getting myself and my friends into trouble. Being treated like a twelve-year-old when I was twenty-eight and a grown-assed woman was embarrassing. But it was also totally deserved.

Corry was asleep in the passenger seat of the Scorpion. I wasn’t strong enough to lift her, and I needed to get her out of here.

KeeKee, pink Afro bobbing, and Lissa raced up, bright in Walter’s headlights, our jackets and bags in their hands, their mouths still open. Yeah. Walter was something to behold, half his face gorgeous, the other half branded with the initials WY. Their eyes followed his auto-electric car until it vanished over the slight hill.

Then my friends were all over me, babbling questions, wanting to know who Mr. Beautiful was, and what had happened, and jibber jabber I couldn’t and wouldn’t answer.

“KeeKee,” Berky rumbled, “pull up your car. You gals get your asses out of here.” He pointed at me. “Take the magic shit with you. Police are on the way. And restart my fucking cams.”

“Your cameras are out?” I asked.

It was hard to tell in the dark, but the big guy might have rolled his eyes. “Magic shit and a dead Scorpion? Yeah. Everything’s out. You did it. You fix it. My job’s on the line, here.”

Well, dang. That meant Walter had alerted my little brother, EJ, when the fracas first started, probably from the moment Labaka left the stage to follow me. My disruptor had a limited sphere of interference and no way had it affected the Keg’s cams. My overprotective little brother, EJ, had no concept of personal space or personal boundaries when any possibility of danger was involved. The Witch War, when demons were used as weapons by witch-vamps, had stolen all that.

With Walter running the security show and EJ as my business partner, I had less privacy now than I did when I lived under the queen’s thumb. And then my ex’s thumb. Freedom was a ghost, drifting close but never really grasped.

While Berky rolled the former attackers over and handcuffed them, I collected, deactivated, and replaced the amulets in my pockets. Except the amulet that been flung into the dark. The stasis working had a limited life-span and looked like ordinary gravel, so I wasn’t worried.

“You may a given all your magic secrets away, Baby Girl,” KeeKee said.

“I know,” I said, weariness settling on my shoulders like lead weights. “I know. But I wasn’t going to let them take Corry.”

“Fuck no. Fuck that shit and the horse they rode in on,” KeeKee said.

I barked a single note of startled laughter. It changed over to a belly laugh, as KeeKee’s car glided to us on auto and the doors opened. She slid behind the wheel.

“A little help here?” I asked Berky, smothering my chuckles. “Corry’s out cold.”

“I gotchur girl,” he said, opening the Scorpio’s passenger door and gently easing Corry out, carrying her like a sleeping child.

Lissa climbed in back of KeeKee’s vehicle and held out her arms for her friend. “I’ll take her, Berkley.”

Berky stopped, still as a vamp. “How’d you know my name?”

Lissa smiled, sweet as a summer breeze. “I know a lot about you. Maybe we could, you know, get a cup of coffee one day. Put Corry right here.” Lissa patted the seat and her own lap.

Berky looked as if he’d been poleaxed. But he was tender as a mama bear with a cub as he placed Corry on the back seat, her head and upper body in Lissa’s arms.

“This is where you say, ‘I’d love that, Lissa,’” KeeKee said.

“I’d love that, Lissa,” Berky repeated as I climbed into the passenger seat.

“My number’s on file with the club. Call me,” Lissa said.

“You white dudes are dumb as shit,” KeeKee said.

The doors closed. We moved silently into the night. Behind me I knew the cams had come back on. Baby brother would make sure.

You can purchase Unpredictable Magic from Amazon, Kobo, Barnes & Noble, and Apple Books. Unpredictable Magic is also available in audiobook format at Amazon, Kobo, Barnes & Noble, and Apple Books. Print editions can be purchased at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.