Two weeks ago, I logged my first failure as an Oracle. Two days ago, I learned that magic is a fickle thing. Two hours ago, I unleashed a posse of the undead.
Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, they did.
Not only did I need to figure out how to free Nina, I had a new consultant. Double booked is an understatement. Now, I must discover why Hazel Dane, one of the most stressed out—and most impolite—consultants I've ever had is cursed. Or enchanted. Or something. She doesn't know.
Neither do I. Which is kind of a problem.
I'm also not sleeping—hello, guilt-inducing-gargoyle on my front porch anyone? It's probably one more symptom of menopause, but if I don't get some sleep, someone's going to die.
Which was interesting, as zombies just showed up on my front porch, trying to break down the front porch.
Maybe I spoke too soon.
