Bells chimed as I opened the door to the Sisters of Selene. The Fabulous Casimir, leaning on one elbow behind the counter, glanced up as I entered. Today he was sporting powder-white makeup, a geisha-style wig, and an ornate kimono.

I found the sight heartening.

“Hey, there, Miss Daisy,” he greeted me. “I’ve been asking around in certain circles, and I have a piece of news for you.” He shook his finger at me. “I didn’t know whether or not I should call the station with this. And you didn’t give me your personal phone number.”

“I didn’t?”

“No.”

Well, that was an incredibly stupid oversight. Way to go, Daisy. I winced. “Oh, crap. I’m sorry. What do you have for me?”

Casimir fished a file from under the counter, passing it to me. “I got this from a coven in Seattle and printed it out for you. Dr. Midnight’s Traveling Sideshow’s one true thing.”

I flipped through the file.

The images were grainy and low-resolution, scans of screen captures. But all of them showed the same thing: a mermaid in a tank, her face contorted with an expression that was meant to convey pleasure, but was more likely distress. And on every image, there was a different phone number to call.

Casimir watched me beneath his artificial lashes. “They were pimping her, Daisy. Is that what’s happening here?”

“Yeah,” I said softly. “We think so. How did this happen, Cas?”

He shook his bewigged head. “All anyone knows is that she vanished after Dr. Midnight’s carnival was shut down in Seattle. What do you know?”

I stared at the images. “I think someone stole her. One of the carnies.” I glanced up at him. “Thanks—this helps. And I promise we’re doing everything we can to find her. But that’s not why I’m here.”

The Fabulous Casimir arched his painted eyebrows. “Oh?”

“I need cowslip dew,” I informed him.

He looked dubious. “It’s expensive. And it doesn’t work as well as it does if you harvest it yourself.”

“I know.” I fully planned on invoicing the PVB for the cost. “But I need it in a hurry. Do cowslips even grow around here?”

“No, but primroses work. Didn’t you ever try it when you were little?”

I sighed. “Yeah, and I’ll gather the acorn caps myself, but I don’t have time to harvest that much dew. How much is it, anyway?”

Casimir withdrew a little key on a long chain from beneath the folds of his kimono and emerged from behind the counter to unlock an apothecary case with glass doors. He plucked a stoppered flagon filled with clear liquid from an upper shelf. “It’s three hundred dollars an ounce, Daisy,” he said with sympathy. “And I can only get it in three-ounce containers.”

Gah! “Can you sell me a third of a bottle?”