I’m the new fae Judge? You’ve got to be kidding me. I have enough problems in my life. I’m part unseelie. Means half of me is a decent, law-abiding fae. Other half is a front-page serial killer waiting to happen. I’m a P.I. in New Orleans. One night, I’m confronted by a talking dagger from the fae realm. Tells me I’m the new Judge. That it’s my duty to “render Final Judgment on those who break their magical Oaths.” Then I land a case. Witch on her honeymoon. Husband goes missing. He’s probably with another woman, or dead. Either way, it’s easy money. Except it isn’t. Clues lead me in all different directions, most of which involve people wanting me dead. Nothing adds up, but one thing is Being Judge doesn’t mean I’m in control. It means I have a target on my back . . . one I may not survive.

Kids and I don’t get along. Never have. They cry. They’re needy. Don’t even get me started on the smell. Then a baby lands on my doorstep—FAE Investigations—with her elfin parents. They claim a demon wants her. My first thought is, “Let the demon have her.” It would save them so much hassle. But I take the case anyway. Then I discover things aren’t as simple as they look. Sure, a demon wants the baby, but for good reason. This baby may turn out to be the worst type of kid.