I'm proud of the reputation I've made for myself as the woman that chases after the things that go bump in the night. Uttering my name evokes fear in the hearts of the most vile beasts. Unfortunately, there are those capable of harnessing the power of a name and twisting it into a formidable weapon of darkness.
Wolves from the Salem pack are being killed, their bodies left as calling cards to lure me towards the Fae. Following those morbid breadcrumbs, my roll quickly shifts from hunter to hunted.
Can I break the ugly habit of reacting, and strengthen myself with action? Or will the next body to fall be my own?
My name is Maurin Kincaide; Regulator and the long arm of the Council's law.
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