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No one said being a wizard in Manhattan would be easy. No one warned me everyone would be trying to kill me either.
Things were going so well. I had a perfect girlfriend, a magical mentor, and had even learned to use magic without catching anything on fire. Sure, a demon squirrel mauled me a bit, and maybe I was living in a linoleum-filled den of despair, but compared to fleeing from death, life was really good. Then the Ladies, fate, and a lunch bag full of cash yanked the quiet life out from under my feet. Now the only chance of survival my friends and I have involves blood, lies, and breaking and entering.
If we survive this, I'm going to need a lot of therapy.