How many ways do you need to say goodbye to your ex until he finally leaves you alone? My formal name is Aran of The Dagda. I rue the day I became Aran Derringer, but soon I’ll be changing it back to plain old Aran O’Malley. Most days it’s not so bad being a nearly forty-year-old witch from the lineage of the Tuatha de Danann. The last seven years weren’t the best, but I don’t have time to be regretting the past. Despite what my demon hunter ex-husband told the world and his demon hunter council about me, I am not and never was a criminal. His unjust betrayal put me in demon hunter jail, and I’ll go to my grave saying that. Connlander of the Fir Bolg is my hereditary familiar and my friend. Conn is more like family to me than Jack ever was. I’ll die saying that as well. I only stayed in jail for the sake of the daughter Jack Derringer and I share, but Fiona’s twenty now. Before I could break myself out, though, the demon hunter council made me a deal I couldn’t refuse. A legit early release is costing me all my pride and a lot more trouble than a jailbreak would have, but I like the idea of not being a magickal fugitive.