Dr. Portenoy rolled her eyes. “It was nice to meet you, Dani. I look forward to learning as much as I can about you.

Dani’s chin felt like it wanted to retreat back into her throat as Dr. Portenoy passed and walked toward the trailer door. When the door closed, Dani said, “She’s intense.”

“Yes, she is.” In a sweet, professional tone that was obviously contrived, Lara asked, “Can I help you?”

“I’d like to speak to Dr. Ramsay please.”

Lara’s pleasant expression melted away, leaving only cold rejection. “Do you have an appointment?”

Dani smiled her best smile. “Not exactly.”

“No appointment, no access to Dr. Ramsay,” Lara said in the exact same tone she’d used with Dr. Portenoy. “She’s a very busy woman and she can’t have people just showing up and interrupting her day.”

“Well, she did ask me to stop by,” Dani said.

“For a Monday morning social chat?” The receptionist eyed the foil wrapped package in her hands. “To bring her coffee? That ruse won’t work with me. I’ve heard every sob story—”

Jillian’s head poked through her office door, shooting a slightly embarrassed look toward Dani. “Lara, really, it’s okay. This is Danica Teel, one of our newer employees. I asked her to stop by and see me today.”

Lara nodded sharply. “Yes, Danica Teel, no PhD, independent contractor, non-specific tasks. Your office is in Building Eleven. There was no picture attached to your profile.”

“I didn’t realize headshots were something that people did . . . with professional positions . . . with a secret organization,” said Dani.

“This is the International League for Interspecies Cooperation. We hold ourselves to a higher standard.”

Dani’s eyes widened. “I don’t know how to respond to that.”

Jillian snorted. “Come on back to my office, Dani. Lara, hold my calls.”

Lara nodded sharply. “Yes, ma’am.”

Dani followed Jillian into a spacious office. “What in the actual hell? Where did she go to secretarial school? The CIA? Mossad?”

“Sorry about that, Lara is a little intense when it comes to protecting my schedule,” Jillian told her.

The office was lined with different maps of Mystic Bayou, the largest showed the entire parish with several clear plastic overlays marked “new magique,” “family territories,” and “rift influence.” One map showed the faille clearly marked in a place called the Afarpiece Swamp. The only personal item in the office was a large framed photo of Jillian and Bael grinning at the camera like a couple of smitten kittens, and another frame Dani couldn’t angle around to see.

“Glasses, glasses, where did I put the glasses?” Jillian sighed, searching her desk.

Dani “ahemed” and pointed to the top of Jillian’s head, where her glasses were stuck through a golden bun secured with a pair of bronze sticks carved with sea serpents.