I like my women like I like my whiskey: more than is good for me. Name's Kane, Kate Kane. I'm a paranormal private investigator, which is like a normal private investigator except--and stop me if you're having trouble following this--more paranormal. This business comes with a few basic rules: don't start drinking before noon, don't get your partner killed, don't sleep with the woman who killed him. Last year I broke all of them. The only rule I didn't break was the one that said don't work for vampires. But then a dead werewolf showed up outside the Soho shag palace of Julian Saint-Germain--a bloodsucking flibbertigibbet who's spent the last eight centuries presiding over an ever-growing empire of booze, sex, and hemoglobin. I shouldn't have taken the job. The last thing I needed was to get caught in a supernatural smackdown between a werewolf pack and a vampire prince. Even if the vampire prince was dangerously my type. But what can I say? I was broke, I'm a sucker for a pretty face and I gave up on making good decisions a long time ago. Contains mature themes.