Look, I didn’t mean to drive my motorhome into a lake. Or get caught naked in a bed-and-breakfast. Or steal an elephant (I brought her back). Or—well, you get the idea. But life’s weird when you’ve got my kind of luck. The kind that pushes things to extremes. The kind that makes sure the impossible will happen, for better or worse.

  There was a bank robbery. A sword fight. Kidnappings. A tentacle monster from another dimension tried to eat a town, and my friends nearly died stopping it. Some of them got scars for their trouble. Some of them are still speaking to me.

  Here’s what we know: A new group of practitioners enlisted a biker gang to help a preacher of a mega-church, David Fonteneau, steal a bunch of people, mostly kids. They were going to kill them all as a mass sacrifice to turbo-charge a summoning spell to bring about the Rapture or something. My friends and I, including local law enforcement and the FBI, stopped them, but Fonteneau’s wife, Marcy disappeared.

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  So, like a rational human being, I took a slingshot, an arrow, and a map, spun in a circle, and let fate decide my next move.

  And wouldn’t you know it? The damn arrow landed right near Willamette. Right where everything went to hell. Yay.

  So, here I am. Maybe my new therapist, Dr. Black, was right. Maybe I am supposed to be here. Maybe this is the best possible life I could be living.

  Or maybe I just made the worst possible mistake. Again.