A bout of insomnia leads to witnessing a scene that belongs in a vampire flick—only, the fangs looked way more realistic. One second, I was trying to run away, and the next, I found myself in a kennel in the back of a scary-looking van.
That’s right … a kennel. See, apparently my body was hiding a pretty big secret and I’m some kind of witch. One that turns into a cat when under duress.
How convenient for me.
Faster than you can Google hairball remedies, I find myself thrust into a world of magic and mayhem beyond my most sleep-deprived delirium. I’m placed into some kind of witchness protection program and sent to live in a house full of actual monsters.
What’s the worst that could happen?
Well, as it turns out, the answer to that (should have been rhetorical) question is that the pack of vamps I saw have tracked me down and it’s going to take every ounce of my baby-witch magic to keep me from signing up to join the horde of the almost dead.
At least running for my life will help me squeeze in my cardio.