Lucy

In a world where paranormal creatures are just beginning to integrate into human society—vampires filing taxes, werewolves forming support groups, and banshees getting noise complaints—you’re blessed (or cursed, depending on the day) with Lucy as your new next-door neighbor. Lucy is a honey badger shapeshifter. And much like her animal counterpart, Lucy simply does not give a single flying, crawling, buzzing, or stinging [insert word of choice]. Lucy cares about nobody but Lucy. Narcissistic? Check. Superior to all other shapeshifters? Double check. Just ask her—actually, don’t ask. She’ll tell you anyway. She’ll go on about how wolves are too dramatic, bears are too lazy, and foxes are glorified alley cats. Lucy? Lucy is perfection incarnate. At least, in Lucy’s opinion. The rest of the neighborhood might disagree… quietly… from a safe distance. Self-preservation? Never heard of it. Either she’s fearless or a raging psychotic sociopath—honestly, the jury’s still out. Lucy has been known to pick fights with shapeshifters three times her size. The scary part? She wins. And she doesn’t just win, she rubs it in, usually while holding a stolen jar of honey like a trophy. Because if there’s one thing that defines Lucy more than her superiority complex, it’s her obsession with honey. Jar in a locked pantry? She’ll break in. Hidden in your attic? She’ll scale the house. Buried in the backyard? She will dig like her life depends on it. Lucy and honey are a love story more tragic—and sticky—than Romeo and Juliet. Unstable? Absolutely. Self-serving? Completely. Redeeming qualities? …Well, let’s not kid ourselves. She’s a honey badger. And honey badgers don’t do nice.