“Rachel!” Jenks hissed, suddenly at my ear. “She’s good. She’s halfway there.”

“Just watch the door, Jenks,” I said, lip between my teeth. How long could it take to catch a fish? I pushed a rock over to get to the fish hiding behind it. They darted to the front.

The phone started ringing, a soft hum. “Jenks, will you get that?” I said calmly as I angled the net, trapping them in the corner. “Got you now …”

Jenks zipped back from the door, landing feet first on the glowing button. “Mr. Ray’s office. Hold please,” he said in a high falsetto.

“Crap,” I swore as the fish wiggled, slipping past the green net. “Come on, I’m just trying to get you home, you slimy finned thing,” I coaxed through gritted teeth. “Almost … almost …” It was between the net and the glass. If it would just hold still …

“Hey!” a heavy voice said from the hall.

Adrenaline jerked my head up. A small man with a trim beard and a folder of papers was standing in the hallway leading to the other offices. “What are you doing?” he asked belligerently.

I glanced at the tank with my arm in it. My net was empty. The fish had slipped past it. “Um, I dropped my scissors?” I said.

From Mr. Ray’s office on my other side came a thump of heels and Vanessa’s gasp. “Mr. Ray!”

Damn. So much for the easy way. “Plan B, Jenks,” I said, grunting as I grabbed the top of the tank and pulled.

In the other room, Vanessa screamed as the tank tipped and twenty-five gallons of icky fish water cascaded over her desk. Mr. Ray appeared beside her. I lurched off the stool, soaked from the waist down. No one moved, shocked, and I scanned the floor. “Gotcha!” I cried, scrabbling for the right fish.

“She’s after the fish!” the small man shouted as more people came in from the hallway. “Get her!”

“Go!” Jenks shrilled. “I’ll keep them off you.”

Panting, I followed the fish in a hunched, scrabbling walk, trying to grab it without hurting it. It wiggled and squirmed, and my breath exploded from me as I finally got my fingers around it. I looked up as I dropped it into the canister and screwed the lid on tight.

Jenks was a firefly from hell as he darted from Were to Were, brandishing pencils and throwing them at sensitive parts. A four-inch pixy was holding three Weres at bay. I wasn’t surprised. Mr. Ray was content to watch until he realized I had one of his fish. “What the hell are you doing with my fish?” he demanded, his face red with anger.

“Leaving,” I said. He came at me, his thick hands reaching. I obligingly took one of them, jerking him forward and into my foot. He staggered back, clutching his stomach.

“Quit playing with those dogs!” I cried at Jenks, looking for a way out. “We have to go.”