“Sure.” A six-pointed star pinned to an ID wallet bearing the Earthen Conclave’s seal weighted down the breast pocket of my jacket. I flashed it for her. “I won’t take up much of your time.”

One touch, and I would have all the confirmation I needed to file my report and go home, see my family and refill the well before plunging back into the depraved underbelly of faekind. Leaving Aunt Dot to her own devices for long stretches of time was almost as bad of an idea as being here was in the first place.

“Okay.” Her rough pink tongue swiped over her chapped bottom lip. “I still can’t grant you access until I clear it with my supervisor.”

“She’s with me,” a familiar voice boasted from a safe distance away.

The rasp of the woman’s mocking laughter made me wish Flipper hadn’t vouched for me. I don’t think it did either of us any favors. When Flipper angled to walk past and the marshal blocked her, I knew that it hadn’t.

Red slashed Flipper’s cheekbones. “Find another mouse to play with.”

“Go filet yourself.” She bared needlelike teeth and hissed. “I don’t take orders from sushi.”

Water splashed onto the ground. The fresh plastic bottle in Flipper’s hand crinkled in protest as liquid flowed over her knuckles. The promise of violence flavored the air, and the fingernail on my right hand’s middle finger loosened with a dull throb. The keratin spur hidden in a sheath of skin in my nailbed was itching to extend, prick the kitty’s paw and absorb a dollop of magic through her blood. I pressed my thumb over the tip of my middle finger to hold the nail in place.

“Tell me we don’t have a problem here,” a whiskey-rich voice drawled. “Tell me I’m wrong and that a cat fight wasn’t about to break out at my crime scene.” The newcomer glanced back at the sink, and his gaze went distant. “There’s a dead child a half dozen yards away.” His focus shifted back to us. “Show some respect, or get your asses back in your cars and leave.”

The cat woman’s throat fluttered in response, but she didn’t speak a word. He accepted her brand of apology then studied me with a critical eye. I returned the favor, absorbing his copper eyes and the mahogany curls flattened by sweat.

“I’m Camille Ellis.” I didn’t offer him my hand, didn’t want to draw concern for my wobbly nail. “Magistrate Vause sent me.”

“Vause, huh?” His full lips slanted down at the corners. “Somehow I doubt picking fights with my team is what she had in mind.” He touched the woman’s arm, and her purr ramped up a few decibels. “Go relieve Rebec. Tell him he’s got the gate.”