My life is one giant cycle of group deniability…
As a magic-less son of a witch, owning a store full of magical objects isn't easy. But with my unhelpful rottweiler Bailey and a handful of supernatural staff, we've sold everything from elfin wedding china to a life-size dwarven statue we don't like to talk about. Everything's going smoothly until a goblin customer starts coughing up a disgusting green goo.
Combine that with a weird set of glasses that let the wearer see every type of magic and we have a serious conundrum.
Then I get a frantic call about my dog. Cheat me out of a heck of a lot of money and I'll angrily grumble but come after Bailey and you and I have a problem.
To top off the last few insane weeks the semiannual supernatural auction, where I'm selling a few things, is cancelled when someone sets fire to the building as cover to steal some of the more expensive antiques being sold, including some of mine.
Well, at least there is never a dull moment.
