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Meet Fionna mac Cumhaill, an urban druid coming into her powers and trying to master them. She has a family she didn't know about, a magical heritage laying its claim, and a mystery she apparently needs to solve.

In the past two years, I leveled up as a kick-ass urban druid and became the leader of the Fianna Warriors my ancestor Fionn mac Cumhaill needed me to be. The thing is—four months ago everything changed. The veil between realms came down. With dormant genes waking, the dominant races jockeying for their place in the hierarchy, and the world around us pulsing out of control with power, my position as the Fae Liaison of Toronto has gotten off to a chaotic start.

Cette meuf, faut pas l'emmerder. Ou bientôt vous le regretterez ! Grandir avec cinq frères aînés m'a appris à encaisser les coups. Cela est très utile car ceux que je prends en tant que druidesse me font regretter les bonnes vieilles bagarres, les écorchures et les querelles avec mes frères. On ne peut plus reculer et honnêtement, je ne le ferais pas si je le pouvais. Dans une ville où les vampires, les mages et les hobgoblins me détestent, j'ai du mal à me défendre et à mener le bon combat. Mais j'ai été choisie pour porter la marque des Fianna pour une raison. Je suis Fiona-fecking-Cumhaill.

I have family I didn't know about, a magical heritage laying its claim, and a mystery I apparently need to solve. But when a back-alley brawl leaves me marked with a bizarre Celtic crest on my back, I become a beacon for all things whacked and weird.

Assuming my role as the druid representative for the Lakeshore Guild of Empowered Ones is both an honor and a curse. It puts me in a position to make important changes in a flawed system but also puts me in the crosshairs of a lot of powerful people. Demons, tricksters, and wizards I can handle, but when my worlds collide and the police get involved, I'm afraid for not only me but the men in my family.

Revived after months of being cursed and comatose, I'm thrown straight into Christmas and a chaotic case of carnivals, cannibals, and country cops. Seriously, I can't make this stuff up. Team Trouble continues to bust our butts to smooth out the rough edges between the empowered and ordinary communities. The problem is . . . the wacked and weird isn't slowing down. It's been a year, and something has got to give-Sloan's worried it will be me.

My outlook on life isn't complicated - any day that passes when nobody tries to kill me or someone I love gets put into the "good day" column. Simple, right? Lately, good days have been hard to come by. Since I totally ignored Da's warning three months ago and flew to Ireland to embrace our super-secret heritage, I've seen the world in a different light - a mythical and magical light. I am a Druid.

Growing up with five older brothers taught me how to take a hit. Lucky for me because the hits I take as a druid make me yearn for the good old days of sucker punches, rope burn, and steamroller.

With the magical veil between our world and the fae realm down, the life we live has gotten weirder by the day. Imagine cloud shape bawdiness, venomous invaders sneaking through tears in the fabric between worlds, and waking up to realize San Francisco isn't where it was the night before. Yeah, lost a city? Call 1-800-Team-Trouble. Handling the whacked and weird of the world is my wheelhouse.

Since being marked as the heir apparent, I've been stabbed, kidnapped, black-listed, tortured, targeted, and accused of being the cause of pretty much every magical mishap that's hit the streets of Toronto. To some, I'm a nuisance, to others a curiosity, and others still - a problem to be eliminated. Whatevs, haters gotta hate.

A wedding on an enchanted island of magic. A guest list of gods, immortals, shifters, dragons, and druids. And a sentient city waking after centuries . . . What could go wrong? When Fiona's magnet for mayhem weighs in on her special day, there's no escaping the fallout . . . or the island. With Dark invaders, realm refugees, a feral vampire, and the mystery of the Light Weavers' disappearance to solve, Fi and her friends are fighting on multiple fronts. Thank the goddess there's cake.

When a back-alley brawl leaves me marked with a bizarre Celtic crest on my back, I become a beacon for all things whacked and weird. My dad is obviously freaked when he sees the tat, but he won't discuss it. So, I do what any stubborn redheaded lass would - I ignore all advice and fly to the Emerald Isle to get answers. And yeah...you know that saying about hindsight being 20/20? True story.

The focus of my life as an urban druid is to stand as a guardian of nature. The focus of my life as Fiona Cumhaill to stand as a guardian of my family. Seriously. Don't screw with my family. It's a no-brainer, drop everything, and take up the fight topic for me—If you need me, I will come. So, when darkness conspires to overtake the light and people I love are sucked into the wake of evil, the Toronto crew grabs the go-bags and answers the call.

The Culling draws ever nearer—looms really—like a big, fat cloud of doom. With evil brewing, our enemies grow bolder, the warriors of light and dark scramble to be ready for the Winter Solstice, and the Cumhaill fam jam digs in to face the battle of our world's alignment. No biggie . . . Team Trouble is on it. For now, the human populations remain oblivious to the imminent battle to come. If we continue to do our jobs right, it'll stay that way. What you don't know won't hurt you, amirite?

It is the Time of the Colliding Realms—the Keening—the Culling. Everything that happened over the past eighteen months has led to this moment. The good and the bad. The triumphs and the tragedies. Now my family by blood, by choice, and by circumstance face the battle to balance our world's alignment.

When the magical energy of New Orleans redlines, Team Trouble responds. Caught between three hostile factions of empowered citizens—witches, wolves, and vampires—we scramble to figure out who's leaving bodies littered around the French Quarter. Navigating the crypts, catacombs, and a cagey council doesn't go our way. Big Easy my ass. Secrets, vendettas, and undead armies make solving this one dangerous not only for us, but for the empowered sects that don't want our help. Whatevs. When the world gets mean, we tighten our ranks.

The world is about to tilt on its axis. Good versus Evil. Light versus Dark. There's a balance to the world's alignment and every thousand years the Earth Realm, the Fae Realm, and the Spirit Realm collide, igniting a period of rebalancing. And while the empowered sects battle for a stronger foothold and fight to find ways to strengthen their forces, the humans go on living blissfully unaware. Which is good. Blissful ignorance is exactly where we want them to be . . . Well, some of us, anyway. As the volatility rises, the aggressive races protest.

Cette meuf, faut pas l'emmerder. Ou bientôt vous le regretterez ! Bouleversée par l’imprévisibilité de la vie, je me retrouve à affronter un héritage magique que j’ignorais et un mystère que je dois résoudre.Mes trois plus grandes passions ? Ma famille irlandaise un peu folle, le whisky Redbreast chez Shenanigans et habiter à Toronto. Ayant grandi avec cinq frères aînés, je peux me sortir de la plupart des situations, soit avec mon sens de l'humour, soit avec mes coups de poing. Souvent les deux.

We all make mistakes, but for most of us we die and they're forgotten—not so if you're immortal. For gods and immortals, grudges live forever. One moment of poor judgment, a lack of understanding, or simply being oblivious to what's going on around you can elevate you to the top of someone's to-do list. Be careful who you piss off. Amid murder, ex-lovers, jewel heists, and much, much wine, the Cumhaill fam jam stays the course of fighting the good fight and standing behind our friends. Ni neart go cur le cheile . . . There is strength in unity.

Life is a balance—at least that's what I'm told by people smarter than me. Try as I might to spend quality time with Sloan, family, friends, and companion animals, my magnet of mayhem often has other ideas. Adulting is hard. So when I move an adolescent dragon into my backyard, why don't I anticipate the craziness that will ensue? Maybe Sloan's right and I am ridiculous. I like to think I'm an optimist. Either way, it takes a group effort to figure out the mess we find ourselves in and what to do about it.