Coming from a long line of famous witches, I should be at the top of the heap. Problem is, if there’s a spell cast anywhere near me, I‘ll somehow mess it up. As a probationary agent with the Arcane Bureau of Investigation, I have two choices: I can limp along and maybe pass myself off as a competent agent, or I can die.

Horribly.

Worse news? I seem to have a stalker in the form of a sinfully hot, perpetually grumpy wolf who seems to have a keen interest in keeping me alive.

Whose idea was this again?