An interdimensional mixer with angels and other beings brings unexpected trouble for Malachi and his friends in this smart and uniquely funny second book about the squad of teens from hell. When an angel comes to his home to deliver a message, Malachi immediately knows what’s going on. The seraph Cassandra who helped his squad recapture Samuel Parris’s wayward soul has finally set a date for her interdimensional mixer! With fae, angels, and hell dwellers alike on the invite list, it promises to be an event of a lifetime. Mal can’t wait to go to the hot new fashion salon in town and have Morgan, its fabulous fae owner, help him create the perfect look. But Mal’s parents and even some of his squad mates are not quite as excited for the soiree. And when Mal overhears another fae talking to Morgan, he starts to wonder if there’s something at play other than a simple party. But the mixer gives everyone the opportunity to get to know people from different dimensions and form new connections…what could possibly go wrong? "Fans of the first book will be thrilled to catch up with these fallen angels." ― -- Kirkus Reviews Darcy Marks is a Second Degree Black Belt in Kempo-JuJitsu, as well as a Black Belt in Arnis, the Filipino art of stick-fighting. She teaches women’s self-defense and works as a forensic toxicologist. Darcy is a mother of three is and an avid fangirl living in northern Vermont. Visit her online at DarcyMarks.com. Chapter One ONE From the outside, the shop looked perfectly normal for something that had just appeared one day on a crowded street with no empty lots. It settled at the end of a row of my favorite stores, somehow lining up perfectly with the street like it belonged there, even though it shouldn’t have even fit. Glamourie had stood empty for weeks. Only a small gap between the blue velvet curtains allowed any snooping of the vacant interior, while the sign above had displayed the name of the shop in swooping silver glittery letters… and nothing else. The endless rumors of Hell’s new resident from Faerie had kicked up immediately. Interdimensional travel was heavily regulated, as I now knew firsthand, but interdimensional residency was an entirely different thing altogether. When Morgan arrived from Faerie, it constituted BIG NEWS. Speculation was everywhere. Why was one of the fae coming to live here? What was the shop going to be? Was it the start of a secret invasion? Who knew! Morgan was seen around town in a sequence of brief sightings, but they hadn’t said a word to anyone. One day they posted a countdown on the door of the shop. Day by day the pages fell to the ground, each bringing us closer to what everyone assumed would be the grand opening and finally the answer to so many questions. As the days ticked down, there was just one problem: I was STILL grounded. After our unplanned visit to Salem, my squad and I had been in as much trouble as you’d expect from us sneaking off to another dimension and almost causing the apocalypse. Which is to say, a lot. We had been questioned again and again—Aleister included, though he thought it was pretty unfair to have to deal with the consequences when he hadn’t even gotten to enjoy the mayhem in the first place—by increasingly higher-level people, until eventually we’d been brought as a group to face the Powers That Be. The group of intimidating elites had sat at a table, as we’d all taken chairs at one of our own. Their table had been polished black wood with elaborately carved legs, framed by dramatic flame sconces. Ours had been a folding table that had looked like it got brought out for bake sales, with folding chairs just slightly too short. We had exchanged panicked looks at the PTB’s stern shadowed expressions, certain that we were heading to a very eternal grounding. But after yet another recitation of the facts, at least the version my squad and I had all agreed to tell, a man came in pushing a cart of snacks. “Excellent,” said the man at the far left, clapping his hands. “I missed lunch.” And with that the entire vibe changed. True, I vaguely wondered if taking the cupcake was a trap, but when nothing happened, I let the worries about eternal punishment fade away and sat a little more slumped in my seat. The Powers That Be reassured us, between sips of cider and bites of snacks, that they figured it had all been an accident on our parts rather than any malicious intent, and that this interrogation was all about following the proper procedure. Unfortunately, exchanging victorious grins with my squad was one of the last good times we’d have for a while. We were happily received by our parents when we left the room, with enormous, relieved hugs, but once they realized we weren’t actually being sent to the Cage, they decided that if the PTB weren’t going to punish us, it was their job to do it. I ended up with Methuselah as a babysitter for literally every time my parents were not home, which should