Grams has concerns.
It is the early 2030s. Grams is the canny chief of the Western Witch Covens and she believes that the state of the world is deplorable as it has always been.
She is also sure that it is getting worse, and that the sheer bad luck that seems to be dragging the humans towards -something- cannot be entirely natural.
She is therefore conducting an investigation, on her own time mind you, and needs assistance.
And a break between her investigators and the rest of the witches in case one of her suspicions turns out to be correct. There has to be someone left to save the world if things go wrong.
“I’ve seen some incompetent leaders amongst the humans, Goddess help me.” Grams paused, then grimaced, as if she had tasted something bitter. “But the current lot are worse than useless and they multiply like bed bugs.
“Every single back-stabber and short term city burner seems to be rising to the top. And it’s no better with the Vampires or those idiot Fae, not that they’ve ever been any better. This cannot be random. Someone is pushing the worst forward and I can only think of one reason that anyone would do this.”
“Going to tell me?”
“We’ll see.” Grams peered myopically over the half moons of her reading glasses. “How are you at crosswords?”
Ice Age in Scarlet 