“No.” My tail twitched. “Not one you can see, anyway. But I have a dagger no one else can wield. Hel gave it to me herself with her left hand, the hand of death.” I drew dauda-dagr and reversed the blade, proffering the hilt. “Would you care to try it?”

Dauda-dagr’s blade shone in the sunlight angling off the river, silvery runes shimmering, its edges glinting blue. It felt pleasantly cold against my palm. Little wisps of frosty mist rose from it, hovering in the bright air.

Amanda Brooks shivered and shrank back, gooseflesh rising on her bare arms. “No.” Picking up a gilded letter opener, she poked at dauda-dagr like she was poking at a snake with a stick. “Put it away, please.”

I sheathed it.

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” she said without preamble, recovering effortlessly. “The young man in the lobby, Mr. Palmer, has filed a request for a license to operate a tour bus in Pemkowet. A paranormal tour. And I think it’s a good idea. I think if we could guarantee sightings, benign sightings, it would do the town a world of good. It would help us weather this storm.” Her intense gaze fixed on me. “Do you agree?”

I sighed. “It’s not that easy.”

“It could be. Think of the possibilities, Daisy!” She leaned forward again. “Look at the success of Mrs. Browne’s Olde World Bakery. What if we offered a package deal with baking classes with Mrs. Browne herself?”

I shook my head. “That would never happen.”

“Why ever not?”

“Because she’s a brownie!” I said. “Brownies only offer their services at will, never on demand, and never when people are watching. Never. You can’t ask them for favors. It’s dangerous to even acknowledge them with thanks. You can’t ask them for anything. She’d vanish if you did.”

“Okay. Okay.” Amanda Brooks settled back in her chair, crossing her legs. “So help me out here. Let’s brainstorm. What will work?”

I thought over the possibilities. Closeted werewolves were out, obviously. Unless we were talking about moonlight tours, vampires were out. Lurine was too recognizable to take that kind of risk; there was no way I’d ask her. “There’s a new head ghoul in town,” I said. “He seems interested in improving their image; he might be willing to have his people work with us. Oh, and there’s Gus the ogre. I bet he’d do it if my mom asked him.”

She shuddered. “Oh, for the love of God! Were you even listening? We need benign sightings, Daisy. We need nymphs splashing in the river, playing catch with bubbles; wood nymphs flitting through the forest. We need pixies sitting on toadstools. We need pretty, sparkly fairies. We need—”

“Unicorns and rainbows?” I suggested.