The dog park smelled like wet grass, tennis balls, and regret. (Not mine, for once.)

  Across from me sat my latest “client,” a wiry twenty-something with messy dirty-blonde hair, bright eyes, and a grin that was just a little too toothy to pass for normal. Her name was Zorka, which was Eastern European, she’d said, though she’d laughed and added it meant something close to “little fox” in her grandmother’s tongue. Which, frankly, felt appropriate.

  Zorka had pointy ears twitching through her braided hair, legs crossed at the ankles in front of her, and a tail flicking against the park bench like she was counting beats in some private rhythm. She’d already drawn a few looks from the dog-walking crowd (and a few curious sniffs from their pups), but her glamour did most of the work hiding her supernatural identity.

  To the average passerby, she looked like just another undergrad in a boho dress killing time between classes. To me? She looked like a walking Craigslist ad for “werewolf chic.” Even with dog ears, she was very pretty.

  And me? I looked like a guy being bullied by a bag of citrus.

  “Come on, Mercer,” Zorka urged, thrusting another lemon wedge into my face. “Sour makes the spit better.”

  I scowled but popped the slice anyway, jaw tightening as the juice bit my tongue. My eyes watered.

  Zorka laughed, a quick, wild sound that drew a few dogs to bark in solidarity. She threw her head back, ears flattening with delight. “See? You’re good at this.”

  “Glad to know I’ve finally found my calling,” I muttered, spitting into the little plastic tub she’d set between us. The mixture inside—lotion plus a whole lot of Daniel-branded bodily fluids—looked like something you’d scrape out of a college dorm restroom drain.

  Zorka dipped her fingers in, unfazed as it melted her sharp fingernails to more human standards. She smeared it on her shin. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the hair fizzled, curling in on itself like it had been caught in a fire. A second later, her skin was smooth. Flawlessly hair-free.

  She gasped. “Oh my god, Mercer. This is it. This is the miracle formulation.”

  “Miracle’s a strong word,” I said. “I prefer ‘grossly effective.’”

  She wiggled her toes happily. “Do you realize how many razors I go through a month? My whole life has been depilation and despair. And now?” She held up her smooth leg like it was a prize on The Price is Right. “You’ve saved me.”

  “Saved or shaved?” I chortled at my own rhyme.

  She snorted and slapped my arm. “Witty.”

  “I’ll put that on my business card. Daniel Mercer: freelance miracle, part-time hair removal cream.”

  A tennis ball bounced across the path in front of us, chased by a Labrador in full gallop. Zorka’s ears twitched. Her eyes locked on the ball with alarming focus, pupils dilating into predatory slits.

  “Don’t,” I warned.

  “I’m not—” Her tail gave a guilty flick.

  “You’re thinking about it.”

  “Maybe a little.” Her grin widened, all teeth. “Maybe a lot.”

  I groaned. “I’m not bailing you out if you wrestle a golden retriever for a tennis ball.”

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  Before she could answer, a voice cut in—smooth, sharp, and way too close. “Disgusting.”

  I didn’t have to look. Euryale was five steps away, standing like she’d been carved from marble and attitude. Tall, blonde, and so impossibly symmetrical she made everyone else in the park look like they’d been assembled out of spare parts.

  Her coat, black and tailored, swirled around her long legs like a warning flag. She wore mirrored sunglasses even though the sun was already bleeding out behind the skyline, and her arms were crossed in a way that made it clear she was not here for fun.

  “You’re disgusting,” she repeated, her voice cool as glass. “Letting people smear you on their bodies like ointment. Do you have no shame, Dan?”

  Zorka looked between us, unbothered. “It works. That’s all that matters.” She stroked her now-bare lower leg, smug.

  Eury’s lip curled. “At least her skin is decent. Mammalian genetics are a curse, but they do manage a certain supple softness.”

  “Thanks?” Zorka said brightly.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Look, I’m not exactly proud of this. But rent’s due, Eury. And my landlord doesn’t take scales and magic pearls as currency.”

  Euryale’s sunglasses tilted down just enough for me to see her eyes—slitted pupils, gold irises gleaming like coins in a dragon’s hoard. “You’re wasting yourself. Trading power for pocket change.”

  Zorka just grinned wider, hiking up her skirt. “Pocket change that buys miracles.” She reached into the tub for another glob of the mixture, spreading it on her thigh. Fur fizzled away, leaving smooth, glowing skin. She looked like she’d just discovered fire.

  Eury made a noise halfway between a hiss and a sigh. “Pathetic.”

  I pretended not to notice the way her gaze lingered on the perfect skin Zorka left behind. “See? Everybody wins. She gets her miracle. I get my rent. And you get to stand there looking judgmental. It’s the circle of life.”

  Zorka tossed the now-empty lemon slice into the grass and stretched, tail curling lazily behind her. “For the record,” she said, “you’re underselling yourself. You could bottle this and buy a house.”

  “I can’t exactly list ‘magic spit exfoliant’ on Etsy,” I said.

  “Not with that attitude,” she shot back.

  The three of us walked out together once Zorka was satisfied—her hair-free legs practically sparkling under the sun. More than a few guys turned their eyes her way as she walked past. Oblivious, she hummed as she tugged her hoodie back on over her patterned dress, tail swishing lazily.

  “Next week?” she asked me, hopeful, smile glowing nearly as much as those lupine gams.

  I hesitated. “Uh… we’ll see.”

  She pouted, then flashed another too-toothy grin. “I’ll bring the lemons, Mercer.” And with that, she bounced away into the afternoon, earbuds in, already humming along to something fast and happy.

  Eury closed the gap and fell into step beside me, her heels clicking smartly against the sidewalk. She didn’t bother blending in. She never did. Heads turned as we passed—dogs yipped, their owners pulled leashes tighter—but she didn’t acknowledge any of it. She moved like the city was hers, like sidewalks bent themselves to her stride.

  “You shame yourself, Dan,” she said finally.

  “Thanks. I’ll put that on the Yelp page: Dan, into humiliation.”

  Her sunglasses glinted as she glanced at me. “You mock because you’re afraid.”

  “I mock, because if I don’t, I’ll cry.”

  She didn’t smile, but her lips twitched. Barely. “Fair.”

  We walked in silence for half a block, the air cool and sharp. I shoved my hands in my pockets, kicking at a loose pebble.

  “That girl,” Eury said at last. “She wasn’t the first to work your secretions into a tonic or product...”

  “No.”

  “And she won’t be the last.”

  I shrugged. “Everybody’s got their hustle. Mine just happens to be… weird.”

  She tilted her head, blonde hair catching the light like a halo. “It’s not the weirdness. It’s the waste. You sell yourself piece by piece, never asking what it makes you in the end.”

  “Last I checked, it makes me someone who can afford Pop-Tarts for our pantry spider and streaming service for the lot of us...”

  The silence stretched again, heavier this time.

  My phone buzzed. Not the normal one. The other one—the one Jade had slipped into my hoodie with her smug little draconic grin. Hoardlink. The screen glowed with a new message. An address. No context.

  My stomach knotted.

  “Work?” Eury asked, voice sharp. Too astute.

  “Dinner plans,” I lied, too fast. “With Elly.”

  She didn’t stop walking, but I felt her eyes on me, heavy through the mirrored lenses. “Elly,” she repeated.

  “Yeah. Burgers. Fries. You know.”

  “You’re a terrible liar, Dan.”

  Second person in so many days to point out that dishonesty was my kryptonite.

  Another long pause as we walked. Finally, she sighed, the sound sharp as a blade sliding back into its sheath. “Fine. But if you think you can keep secrets from me for long, you’re dumber than I thought.”

  I swallowed hard.

  The worst part was that she was right.