The Supernatural Lost and Found

About this book:

In the hollow town of Oakhaven, magic isn't sparkle and spellcraft—it's residue. It clings to lost mittens, pools in forgotten coat pockets, and ferments in the municipal Lost and Found like grease in an unwashed skillet. Seventeen-year-old Miles Vance clocks in for minimum wage to wrangle umbrella stands that hail indoors, scissors that trim shadows off hydrangeas, and brass cylinders that sweat creek water and hum with sixty years of pressurized limestone. His badge says *Junior Facilities Custodian*; his actual job is keeping the town from sliding into the treetops before quitting time.

When a boy from the kilns delivers an egg-shaped reservoir stamped with the Valley Drainage Commission's broad arrow, and a woman in a city-cut coat burns her signature into a receipt stub with a fingertip, Miles' quiet shift fractures. The sluice lines are backing up. The barometer's dropping. And something old is waking in the chalk cavities beneath the ridge—something that doesn't care about municipal codes, hazard pay, or the forty-eight-cent storage fee.

Wry, atmospheric, and deeply grounded, *The Supernatural Lost and Found* is a love letter to the bureaucracy of the uncanny. Think *The Office* meets *Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell*: a world where iron tongs are standard issue, chalk lines are polite suggestions to reality, and the most dangerous thing in the back room isn't the haunted overcoat—it's the paperwork you forgot to file.