“What?” He shook himself again. “It’s just that I’ve seen all of her movies. Was she really your babysitter?”

“Yeah.” I smiled wearily. “Still is, apparently.”

“Oh, you’re all grown-up now, cupcake.” Lurine blew me a kiss. “But do me a favor and call your mom, okay?”

“I will,” I promised.

Minutes after Lurine departed the premises, the chief arrived. He stepped through the wreckage of the front door and surveyed the scene without comment for a long, long time before exhaling heavily. “She going to be all right?” He nodded toward the rusalka.

“I hope so, sir,” I said. “We’ve, um, already got someone working on arranging to transport her home.”

“Good.” His gaze skated over the wreckage again, taking in the shattered glass, Dunham’s shivering form propped against the wall, Stefan, his lieutenant Rafe, and half a dozen other loyal ghouls standing in the shadows by the bar, their eyes gleaming softly in the dimness. Outside, sirens sounded and red lights flashed as the EMS vehicle pulled into the driveway. The chief’s gaze shifted to Cody and me. “You two care to fill me in on the details? Wilkes and Sheriff Barnard are on their way.”

The paramedics halted in shock at the sight of the rusalka in her tank, although not as much as one might imagine. They were Pemkowet locals, and had seen a few unusual things in their day. Regaining their composure, they worked efficiently to examine Dunham and check his vitals while Cody and I reported to the chief.

It was another matter altogether when Detective Wilkes and the county sheriff arrived. Wilkes turned pale, but at least his recent dealings with the eldritch community had done a little to prepare him. Sheriff Ross Barnard let out an involuntary grunt, as though someone had punched him in the gut, and stood rooted to the spot, staring at the tank. “Holy Mary, mother of God.” Since that didn’t seem adequate, he repeated it. “Holy Mary, mother of God! Is that thing real?”

“I told you that’s what we were looking for, Ross,” Chief Bryant said.

The sheriff glanced at him. “Yeah, you did. Frankly, I didn’t believe you. So that’s how the Vanderhei kid drowned? In there? With that?”

My tail twitched. “She’s not a thing,” I muttered. “She’s a rusalka.”

He looked at me. “A what?”

“A Russian mermaid, sir,” Cody offered.

Sheriff Barnard scratched his head. “What in the name of all that’s holy is she doing here?”

“Pull up a chair,” the chief said. “It’s a hell of a story.”

While Chief Bryant related it, Cody and I helped the EMTs shift Jerry Dunham onto a gurney, unlocking the handcuffs behind his back and cuffing him to its frame by one wrist before wheeling it out to the vehicle.