Jojo paused, hovering. “I knew not he had a sister.”

“Yeah, neither did I.” Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Mogwai stalking toward her under the rhodos. Damned if I was going to warn her. “And I don’t know what she’s up to. If you want to find out, I suggest you go spy on her.”

Something in my face must have given the game away a split second before Mogwai pounced, because Jojo glanced sideways, then shot two feet higher in a blur of translucent wings and fairy dust. Showing a mouthful of needle-sharp teeth, she hissed at him. Not the slightest bit fazed, Mogwai hissed right back at her.

Now the tourists looked uneasy. “Mouth closed, Jojo,” I reminded her.

The fairy shut her mouth with a tiny but audible snap before winking out of sight. Good riddance.

Upstairs, I showered Mogwai with praise and opened a can of tuna as a special treat, then went to stare disconsolately into my closet. You’d think a seamstress’s daughter would have a stellar wardrobe, but the truth is that I went through a bit of a rebellious stage in my teens—I know, surprise, right?—followed by a conscientious phase where I wouldn’t let my mom waste time and effort on me that could be spent on paying clients. As a result, other than a few simple classics like the dress I’d worn last night, my wardrobe could really use an update.

In light of the arrival of Sinclair’s stylish sister, maybe it was time to take Mom up on her offer. At least I could afford to pay for materials now. Probably.

I was still contemplating the idea when my phone rang.

“Hey, cupcake!” Lurine greeted me, sounding languid and pleased with herself. “Sorry it took me so long to get back to you.”

“No problem.” I shifted the phone under my ear. “You warned me. Is everything okay?”

“Oh, sure. What’s up?”

After the scene at Rainbow’s End, I needed a little more concrete assurance. “So he . . . I mean, the satyr . . . isn’t in rut anymore?”

“Nico? No, he’s fine for now. It’s run its course.”

So the satyr had a name. Who knew? “Good, that’s great. I was hoping you might have some advice on making sure it never happens again.”

“Well, of course it’s going to happen again,” Lurine said mildly. “He’s a satyr. You can’t fight nature, honey.”

“Um . . . yeah. I mean the part where it sets off an orgy,” I said. “A human, public-health-hazard-type orgy.”

“Oh, right.” There was the sound of a champagne cork popping in the background. “Are you okay, Daisy? You sound a little distracted.”

“I’m fine. Do you have any suggestions?”

“Mmm.” Lurine wasn’t buying my dismissal. “You’re not working today, are you?”

“No,” I admitted. “Not unless I get called in on a case.”