
Dear readers, tonight with us is a vet specialising in magical creatures turned reluctant hero. She is here to talk about vampires, werewolves, and manticore poop management.
Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?
New York City, baby. Born and raised. I’ve been yelled at in ten languages before my morning coffee and once saw a cyclops try to parallel park in Midtown. My mom ditched me when I was a kid—vanished into a cloud of magical smoke or an MLM pyramid scheme, hard to say. I was raised by her sister, Aunt Lydia, who is basically what would happen if Aunt Mame ran a cursed antique shop in SoHo and could hex your ex with a glance. She taught me how to make potions, run a business, and never trust anyone who says “trust me.”
Now, I run a nonprofit called The Bestiary, which rescues magical creatures and gives them a second chance. And thanks to a permanently irritated dimensional witch, my nonprofit is now physically attached to my apartment. The good news: my commute is excellent. The bad news: sometimes a kelpie wanders into the kitchen and eats my cereal.
Did you have any favorite toys as a child?
Most kids have teddy bears or glitter wands. I had a lock-picking kit. Aunt Lydia gave it to me when I was seven. She said, “Sweetheart, your magic’s about as reliable as a goblin accountant, so you’ll need backup.” I also did martial arts, fencing, and the occasional magical beast wrangling camp. You know. Normal childhood.
What do you do now?
Technically, I’m the founder and director of The Bestiary, a rescue and rehab center for legendary beasts. Realistically, I clean up unicorn poop, negotiate with territorial manticores, and rescue abused phoenixes from underground fighting rings.
And okay, fine, sometimes I moonlight as a freelance magical crime consultant. If you call breaking into smuggler hideouts “consulting.”
Also: we accept donations. Like, right now. Seriously. I have a Venmo.
What can you tell us about your latest adventure?
Oh, just your average Tuesday. A vampire detective, very broody, very cheekbones, shows up and hires me to help investigate a dead witch and a suspiciously attractive wolf. My bank account says yes before my brain catches up. Turns out, the wolf isn’t just magical. He’s a werewolf. And not just any werewolf: Kyle. Tall, brooding, and somehow always shirtless. Suspicious, right?
Except… he’s innocent. I can feel it. Which means someone else is framing him—and if I don’t clear his name, the real killer might make me their next ritual sacrifice.
Continue reading “Alicia Stormwell (of The Witch’s Bestiary, by Evangeline Hunter)”




Dear readers, tonight is a full moon, but we were promised that we are quite safe in hosting this young woman on the interview couch. She has only recently come out of thee hundred years of seclusion, keeping her nature secret while studying witchcraft.
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