My magic is having a mid-life crisis. It’s sputtering, stalling, and occasionally turning customers’ hair blue.
At forty-eight, I should be at the peak of my power. Instead, I’m running a vintage shop where haunted items keep appearing on the shelves uninvited. I just want to sell a few cursed lamps and pay my mortgage. I definitely don’t want to deal with Dastian.
Dastian is five hundred years of brooding vampire wrapped in a very modern suit. He’s decided to declutter his afterlife, sell his hoard of ancient artifacts, and retire to a minimalist condo in Miami. And he wants me to liquidate his estate.
The pay is great. The catch? His junk has baggage.
Every time I touch one of his “antiques,” I’m sucked into a vision from the Roaring Twenties. It turns out, Dastian’s clutter is actually evidence in a century-old murder mystery. Now, the artifacts refuse to be sold until the crime is solved.
So, I’m stuck on a cross-country road trip in a vintage hearse with a vampire who still says “the bee’s knees” unironically. We have to solve a cold case before my glitchy magic gets us killed—or before I admit that the grumpy bloodsucker is actually kind of charming.
One witch. One vampire. A thousand years of clutter.
