“Exactly! A botanist... or a deep-cover operative for the International Jelly League?”

“You’ve been Gusted,” Shawn shouted, appearing out of nowhere to strike a psychic pose.

They pulled up to a dilapidated warehouse labeled Ventura’s Vintage Velveteen . Shawn hopped out, doing a dramatic tuck-and-roll that ended with him face-planting into a pile of discarded bubble wrap. “You okay?” Gus asked, not moving from the car.

“Shawn, I’m telling you, the wedding is in forty-eight hours,” Gus said, his thumb hovering nervously over his phone. “Selene’s sister is coming. Selene’s scary sister. The one who supposedly works for ‘the agency’ but won’t say which one. We don’t have time for a side quest.”

“Spencer. Guster,” Lassiter growled, holstering his weapon. “I assume you’re here because of the stolen shipment of high-grade artisanal wax?”