I sighed. I hated the maze of bureaucracy with a passion, but I’ve found the best way to deal with it is to smile and act stupid. That way, no one gets confused. “But I talked to someone less than twenty minutes ago,” I objected. “I was told to come here.”

Her mouth made a round O of understanding. A wary expression settled around her eyes. “Ah,” she said, looking at me sideways. “You’re here for the—” She hesitated. “—pixy.” She rubbed the beginnings of a small blister behind her neck. She’d been pixed.

Nick cleared his throat. “His name is Jenks,” he said tightly, his head lowered. Clearly he had heard the hesitation, thinking she had almost said “bug.”

“Yes,” she said slowly, leaning to scratch her ankle. “Mr. Jenks. If you would take a seat over there,” she pointed, “someone will be with you as soon as Captain Edden is available.”

“Captain Edden.” I took Nick’s arm. “Thank you.” Feeling old and creaky, I angled to the orange monstrosities lined up against the lobby’s walls. The woman’s attitude shift wasn’t unexpected. In a breath I had gone from honey to whore.

Though having lived openly with humans for forty years, tensions ran high at times. They were afraid, and probably for good reason. It’s not easy waking up to find your neighbors are vampires and your fourth-grade teacher really was a witch.

Nick’s eyes rove over the lobby as he helped me sit. The chairs were as unpleasant as I had expected: hard and uncomfortable. Nick sat beside me, perched on the edge with his long legs bent at the knees. “How are you doing?” he asked as I groaned while trying to find a halfway comfortable position.

“Fine,” I said shortly. “Just dandy.” I winced, tracking two uniformed men passing through the lobby. One was on crutches. The other’s black eye was just starting to purple up, and he was scratching vigorously at his shoulders. Thanks a heap, Jenks and Ivy. My unease filtered back. How was I supposed to convince the captain of the FIB to help me now?

“You want something to eat?” Nick said, yanking my attention back. “I, uh, could go across the street for some Graeter’s. You like butter-pecan ice cream?”

“No.” It came out more brusque than I had intended, and I smiled to soften my words. “No, thank you,” I amended, my worry settling in my belly to stay.

“How about something from the candy machine, then? Salt and carbohydrates?” he prompted hopefully. “The food of champions.”

I shook my head and set my bag between my feet. Trying to keep my breathing shallow, I stared at the scuffed tile floor. If I ate one more thing, I thought I was gonna ralph. I had eaten another bowl of Nick’s macaroni before the cab picked us up, but that wasn’t the problem.

“Amulets wearing off?” Nick guessed, and I nodded.

A pair of scuffed brown shoes came to a slow halt within my range. Nick slid to the back of his chair with his arms crossed, and I slowly pulled my head up.