My name is Gracie Springs, and I am not a witch... but I'm pretty sure my cat is. I first started to get suspicious when he jumped just a little too high while chasing after a robin in our front yard. I knew for sure when he opened up his mouth and addressed me by name!

The first thing he told me? That he doesn't like the name I gave him—even though "Fluffy" fits him like a warm sweater at Christmas. Now we've compromised on "Merlin the Magical Fluff," which according to him references his long and proud lineage just fine.

After that small matter was settled, he informed me that I must uphold his secret or risk spending the rest of my life in some magical prison. I agreed, not knowing it would turn into a full-time job of covering his tracks and fibbing our way out of some pretty tight spots.

When my boss at the local coffee shop turns up dead as a dormouse, things go from challenging to practically impossible... especially since all my coworkers seem to think I'm to blame.

Here's hoping my witchy cat can charm our way out of this one, because right now it looks like I'm cursed if I do and charged with murder if I don't. Yikes!