“Nice place,” I commented. “Doesn’t Michigan have disclosure laws requiring you to tell parents that this place is run by soulless monsters?”

He tilted his head, studying the two of us in turn. “You’re calling us soulless? You’ve obviously never met an elf.”

“Isaac Vainio,” I said cheerfully, reaching out to shake his hand.

Lena tensed, but the vampire merely smiled and grasped my hand in his. “Kyle Forrester. Soulless monster and manager at Dolingen Daycare. How can I help you?”

“Your people asked to see me,” I said. “They’ve sent several invitations, so I’m assuming it must be urgent.”

“Everything always is.” He stepped back, beckoning us through the door. “I thought immortality would teach people patience. Instead, you end up with vampires rushing about at superhuman speeds, even more stressed out than before they died.” Somewhere in the house, a little boy started crying, the sound swiftly climbing to an ear-piercing scream. Kyle gave me an apologetic smile. “I’ll be right back.”

Lena gave me a skeptical look as we followed him inside. I patted my pocket. “Love magnet, courtesy of L. Frank Baum. Its magic will burn out eventually, but it should make things go a little faster.”

Lena pulled me close. “I get that you like to show off, but next time, a heads-up about your plan would be appreciated, okay?”

“Sorry.” At first glance, the daycare center appeared completely normal. The ceiling tiles had all been painted, resulting in a chaotic mix of colors and scribbling. Posters about safety and respect and manners hung from the walls. The linoleum floor smelled like lemon cleaner, and I picked up the salty aroma of stale Play-Doh as well.

I also counted three security cameras, not including the one we had passed beneath the eaves on the porch.

I peeked into one room with a battered upright piano in the corner and toy instruments stuffed onto bright red-and-blue shelves. Another room was full of folded blankets, with plastic glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the walls and ceiling.

The children were in what I assumed was the main playroom, judging from the number of toys scattered over the floor. A man and woman—more vampires, presumably—were herding nine kids who looked to range from about two to twelve years of age. A large sheepdog was “helping,” circling to and fro and eliciting giggles from a pair of young girls while Kyle talked quietly to a red-faced boy in the corner. The boy nodded, then smiled as Kyle reached out to tickle his neck.

“I’ll be in the office,” Kyle announced, shooing the boy back toward the others. “Don’t forget Jenny’s inhaler at seven, and make sure Tamika keeps her shoes on if you go outside.”