The bang of the auctioneer’s gavel sealed the fate of Grandma Petrov’s wardrobe. “Sold! To Bidder 665!”
Another wave of grief overwhelmed Dr. Bebe Zachary, not so much at the loss of the furniture, but from missing Grandma. Why had she let things between them fester for so long? Why hadn’t she answered Grandma’s last letter? She wouldn’t be in this mess if she’d simply swallowed her pride.
No great revelation answered her guilty conscience as the auction house staff scurried to roll the huge wardrobe out of the way for the next piece. Soft coughs and murmurs interrupted the stark silence of the exclusive facility, but the heavy burgundy drapes covering the walls muffled even those slight noises.
Swallowing hard, she glanced at the man two rows down who had outbid her. Striking, with olive skin and dark, wavy hair trimmed in a conservative style, he gave her a mock salute. The glint of an overly sharp canine in his smug grin confirmed her suspicions regarding his aura.
Damn. One more problem she didn’t need. How was she supposed to get Grandma’s Book of Shadows now?
Apprehension sizzled across her nerves. She ignored him and turned her attention to the next item in the catalog, a milk can once used by Harry Houdini. Grandma’s quirky obsession with Normal illusionists never ceased to amaze Bebe. Why bother when a witch had real power at her fingertips? But all the magick in the world hadn’t changed Grandma’s fate.
If only she’d learned of Grandma’s death before the human probate judge had ordered Grandma’s estate into receivership, an act for which she could thank her asinine cousins and their petty squabbling. Little did the judge know the real fight was over the coven leadership, not the estate assets. Ironically, the half-elven attorney appointed to oversee the estate knew exactly what he had been dumped into. He’d contacted this auction house, since it specialized in serving supernatural folk.