“Me, too,” Jenks said suddenly. He vaulted to the rim of my mug. Iridescent dust sifted from his bent wing to make an oily film on my coffee. “I want in. I want a wish. I’ll ditch the I.S. and be both your backups. You’re gonna need one. Rache, you get the four hours before midnight, Ivy the four after, or whatever schedule you want. I get every fourth day off, seven paid holidays, and a wish. You let me and my family live in the office, real quietlike in the walls. Pay me what I’m making now, biweekly.”

Ivy nodded and took a sip of her juice. “Sounds good to me. What do you think?”

My jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “I can’t give you my wishes.”

The leprechaun bobbed her head. “Yes, you can.”

“No,” I said impatiently. “I mean, I need them.” A pang of worry had settled into my gut at the thought that maybe Ivy was right. “I already used one to not get caught letting her go,” I said. “I have to wish to get out of my contract, for starters.”

“Uh,” the leprechaun stammered. “I can’t do anything about that if it’s in writing.”

Jenks gave a snort of derision. “Not that good, eh?”

“Shut your mouth—bug!” she snapped, color showing on her cheeks.

“Shut your own, moss wipe!” he snarled back.

This can’t be happening, I thought. All I wanted was out, not to lead a revolt. “You’re not serious,” I said. “Ivy, tell me this is your twisted sense of humor finally showing itself.”

She met my gaze squarely. I never could tell what was going on behind a vamp’s eyes. “For the first time in my career,” she said, “I’m going back empty-handed. I let my take go.” She waved a hand in the air. “Opened the trunk and let them run. I broke regulations.” A closed-lipped smile flickered over her and was gone. “Is that serious enough for you?”

“Go find your own leprechaun,” I said, catching myself as I reached for my cup. Jenks was still sitting on the handle.

She laughed. It was cold, and this time I did shiver. “I pick my runs,” she said. “What do you think would happen if I went after a leprechaun, muffed it, then tried to leave the I.S.?”

Across from me, the leprechaun sighed. “No amount of wishing could make that look good,” she piped up. “It’s going to be hard enough making this look like a coincidence.”

“And you, Jenks?” I said, my voice cracking.

Jenks shrugged. “I want a wish. It can give me something the I.S. can’t. I want sterility so my wife won’t leave me.” He flew a ragged path to the leprechaun. “Or is that too hard for you, greenie weenie?” he mocked, standing with his feet spread wide and his hands on his hips.

“Bug,” she muttered, my charms jingling as she threatened to squish him. Jenks’s wings went red in anger, and I wondered if the dust sifting from him could catch fire.