When you get up in the morning, the last thing you expect to see is a murdered guy hanging outside your window. Things like that tend to draw the attention of the local police, and when you're squatting in your parents' old house until you can afford to buy it, another thing you can't afford is the attention of the cops. Oh yeah. Hi. My name is Pet. It's not my real name, but it's the only one you're getting.

What is a maiden to do when her prince is not a prince, her hair won’t stop growing, and someone has cursed her to sleep for 300 years? In Polyhymnia’s case, it seems expedient to get up with the help of a kiss or two, trailing her hair behind her, and find out who did it. Nothing quite works out as planned, however, and Poly can’t be sure if that’s because she never seems to be able to remember things like the mysterious spindle that keeps showing up around her, or if it’s the fault of the wizard who woke her but never stops long enough to explain anything.

For a decade, I’ve hated the supernaturals who owned my world. I hunted them. I killed them. And now, in the most grand twist of fate - I am bonded to one of them. Oh, the irony. Being a supernatural bounty hunter isn’t exactly a popular job. But after the magic wars, there aren’t many things a human can do that will put food on the table. Thankfully, anything my right hook can’t handle, my guns can. Or so I thought.  

Two things are impossible to walk away from: death and vintage clothing. Trust me. I've tried. Moving across the country and opening a costume shop was supposed to be my chance for a normal life. What I wanted was a fresh start, one where the biggest danger would be a carelessly wielded sewing needle. What I got was the ghost of a murdered reporter demanding justice, a power I can’t control, and a new goat-shifter BFF hell-bent on trouble.

Oliver was a very minor mage. His familiar reminded him of this several times a day. He only knew three spells, and one of them was to control his allergy to armadillo dander. His attempts to summon elementals resulted in nosebleeds, and there is nothing more embarrassing than having your elemental leave the circle to get you a tissue, pat you comfortingly, and then disappear in a puff of magic.