My magic is very weak and very niche—it works best with keeping things clean.
I know. I can sense your awe at my power already. And I’m sure you can see why barbering suits me well.
Although now that I’ve mastered the art of trimming a weretiger’s regrowth, my biggest challenge is fielding the insults of the shop’s cat. Sometimes I wish I had enough magic to go deeper into the city’s magical underbelly.
You know what they say—be careful what you wish for.
Everything changes when a pair of forest fae come into the shop one night, asking for help to protect their youngling. Something’s got them properly spooked, but they won’t say what.
If it’s big and bad enough to scare the fae, it’s most definitely powerful enough to make a mouthful of me—probably a small mouthful, at that. And now that the fae have come to me, whatever’s after them is also after me.
My weak magic and a sarcastic cat for backup are unlikely to be enough to keep me alive and save the fae youngling. How the hell am I going to get out of this mess?