“Here.” I passed her one of the two chilled bottles of water I had purchased at the gas station ten miles back. “It’s yours if you want it.” I wasn’t sure I could bring myself to drink them without a few squirts of a liquid flavor enhancer, and the store hadn’t carried any of the familiar tiny squeeze bottles.

She hesitated with her arm half-extended, and I remembered. No touching. Careful of the sloped metal, I balanced the bottle on the roof of the car. Flipper waited until my window whirred up and glass stood between us before she cranked up her swagger, sashayed over and accepted the offer.

“Much appreciated.” The interior muffled her voice.

It was as close to a thanks as I expected.

Never thank the fae. We see it as an admission of a debt owed, and most of us collect favors like teens collect selfie apps.

The seal cracked, and Flipper drank the water down until she sucked air. I tucked the remaining bottle into my jacket with the hope the same spell that kept me from sweating through the fabric would keep it cool too. Heat rippled over my skin, the sun promising to burn, when I joined her on the cracked blacktop. The car locked with a chirp, and I angled my chin toward the site. “Should we…?”

“Yes, you should.” She walked backward in the opposite direction. “I still have to grab a few things.”

“Hey. Do me a favor?” I didn’t wait for a nod before tossing my key fob to her. “Keep that safe for me.”

“Uh, sure.” The oblong chunk of plastic vanished into one of her micro pockets. “I can do that. I guess.”

“I appreciate it.”

The first responders, probably local marshals, had opened the gate surrounding Wink Sink No. 1 through magical means. I still smelled the burning metal. Faded signs posted in the surrounding area warned of “Unstable Ground”. Most were sun-bleached, and graffiti artists were treating them as blank canvases. One particularly artistic soul had used a permanent marker and drawn fanged mermaids copulating.

I wondered how Harlow felt about that, and then wondered if she had been the one who drew them.

I could have ducked through one of the holes snipped through the chain link—probably by local teens using the sinks as a make-out spot—and saved myself a dozen footsteps. But the severe woman guarding the entrance was watching me through the nictitating membranes covering her vivid jade eyes, so I stuck to the beaten path.

“Can I help you?” A purr rumbled through her words.

“I’m Agent Ellis. Magistrate Vause sent me to examine the body.”

Her chest continued to pump with throaty noises. “Got any ID on you?”