Eyes wide, he landed on the lampshade. The dust sifting from him floated upward with the rising heat of the bulb. He was usually tucked in my desk asleep at this hour, which was why I was having my pity party now so I could sulk without interference. “Hey, Jenks,” I said as I let go of the line and the unfocused magic left me. “Who’s here?”

His face became worried. “Rachel, we might have a problem.”

I eyed him sourly. I was sitting alone watching Die Hard. That was a problem, not whatever had come waltzing in our door. “Who is it?” I said flatly. “I already ran off the Jehovah Witnesses. You would think living in a church, they might get the idea, but no-o-o-o.”

Jenks frowned. “Some Were in a cowboy hat. He wants me to sign a paper saying I ate that fish we stole for the Howlers.”

“David?” I jerked out of the chair and headed for the sanctuary.

Jenks’s wings were a harsh buzz as he flew beside me. “Who’s David?”

“An insurance adjustor.” My brow furrowed. “I met him yesterday.”

Sure enough, David was sanding in the middle of the empty room, looking uncomfortable in his long coat and hat pulled down over his eyes. Pixy children were watching from under the crack of the rolltop desk, their pretty faces all lined up in a row. He was on a cell phone, and upon seeing me, he muttered a few words, closed the cover, and tucked it away.

“Hello, Rachel,” he said, cringing as his voice echoed. His eyes ran over my casual jeans and red sweater, and then went to the ceiling as he shifted from foot to foot. It was obvious he wasn’t comfortable in the church, like most Weres, but it was psychological not biological.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he said as he took off his hat and crushed it in a tight grip. “But hearsay won’t stand up in this case. I need your partner to verify he ate that wishing fish.”

“Holy crap! It was a wishing fish!” There was a chorus of shrill cries from the desk. Jenks made a harsh sound, and the faces lining the crack scattered back into the shadows.

David took a trifolded paper from a pocket of his duster and unfolded it atop Ivy’s piano. “If you could sign here?” he said, then straightened, his eyes suspicious. “You did eat it?”

Jenks looked scared, his wings a blue so dark they were almost purple. “Yeah. We ate it. Are we going to be all right?”

I tried to hide my smile, but David grinned, his teeth looking white in the dim light of the sanctuary. “I think you’ll be fine, Mr. Jenks,” he said, clicking open a pen and holding it out.