“My name is Jenks,” he said as he lit atop my shoulder, quivering when I carefully put the photo in my bag. His wings couldn’t stay still, and the come-and-go draft felt good in the stifling air of the limo.

I returned my gaze to Takata, taken aback at the empty look on his face. “What?” I asked, thinking something was wrong.

Immediately he straightened. “Nothing,” he said. “I heard you quit the I.S. to go out on your own.” He blew his air out in a long exhalation. “That took guts.”

“It was stupid,” I admitted, thinking of the death threat my past employer had set on me in retaliation. “Though I wouldn’t change a thing.”

He smiled, looking satisfied. “You like being on your own?”

“It’s hard without a corporation backing you,” I said, “but I’ve got people to catch me if I fall. I trust them over the I.S. any day.”

Takata’s head bobbed to make his long hair shift. “I’m with you on that.” His feet were spread wide against the car’s motion, and I was starting to wonder why I was sitting in Takata’s limo. Not that I was complaining. We were on the expressway, looping about the city, my convertible trailing three car lengths behind.

“As long as you’re here,” he said suddenly, “I want your opinion on something.”

“Sure,” I said, thinking his mind jumped from topic to topic worse than Nick’s. I loosened the tie on my coat. It was starting to get warm in there.

“Capital,” he said, flipping open the guitar case beside him and pulling a beautiful instrument from the crushed green velvet. My eyes widened. “I’m going to release a new track at the solstice concert.” He hesitated. “You did know I was playing at the Coliseum?”

“I’ve got tickets,” I said, my flash of excitement growing. Nick had bought them. I had been worried he was going to cancel on me and I’d end up going to Fountain Square for the solstice as I usually did, putting my name in the lottery to close the ceremonial circle there. The large, inlaid circle had a “permit only” use status except for the solstices and Halloween. But now I had a feeling we would be spending our solstice together.

“Great!” Takata said. “I was hoping you would. Well, I have this piece about a vampire pining after someone he can’t have, and I don’t know which chorus works the best. Ripley likes the darker one, but Arron says the other fits better.”

He sighed, showing an unusual bother. Ripley was his Were drummer, the only band member to have been with Takata for most of his career. It was said she was the reason everyone else only lasted a year or two before striking out on their own.

“I had planned on singing it live the first time on the solstice,” Takata said. “But I want to release it to WVMP tonight to give Cincinnati a chance to hear it first.” He grinned, to look years younger. “It’s more of a high when they sing along.”