Vlad leaned forward, his cold fingers brushing the back of my neck as he craned his into the front seat. “In the olden days it was drinking rainwater out of a wolf’s paw print.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Gross.” I leaned forward, out of Vlad’s reach. “And, Vlad, I’m trying to be a good hostess, but you’ve seriously upped the creep factor in here by like, a thousand.”
He grinned, pleased with himself.
I turned to Nina. “I’m not concerned about me turning into a werewolf. I’m really worried about Mr. Sampson. Did you guys hear anything at Dirt last night, anything about anyone going rogue or new blood in the city or anything?”
“No,” Nina said, her fingers trailing over the steering wheel. “As a matter of fact, Dirt was pretty quiet last night.” She looked at me sideways. “Do you really think Mr. Sampson could be in trouble?”
“I hope not,” I said, staring through the windshield.
The UDA was humming by the time we walked in. Lines were already starting to form, and the waiting room chairs were all filled. There was a wizard snapping the pages of a two-month-old Sports Illustrated, a centaur named Nick discreetly nibbling on a Martha Stewart Weddings, and a demon with a horrible overbite and a horn through his nose shuffling and reshuffling his papers. I bit my lip, getting the distinct feeling that Sampson really didn’t just take a midnight sojourn and head back to work this morning, fresh and shiny.
“Uh-oh,” I muttered to Nina, “this doesn’t look good.”
Nina just shrugged and pointed to the calendar pinned to one wall. “It’s the first of the month,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s always crazy on the first.” Nina grabbed Vlad by the arm. “Come on. I’ll take you to the mailroom. You’re going to be working with a banshee named Ari. He’s super nice. Just don’t look him directly in the eye or show him his reflection. It sends him to a parallel dimension, and he gets so pissed when that happens. It also really messes up payroll. Let’s go.”
Nina skipped down the hall, dragging a very slow-moving Vlad sullenly behind her.
Lydia, a pixie from HR, looked up while handing out papers to a group of Kholog demons. She narrowed her eyes when she saw me, and instantly I heard her voice reverberating in my head.
“Thank God you are finally here,” she said. “This place is about to explode, and half the staff is MIA!”
I squeezed my eyes shut; no matter how long I’ve worked here, I never seemed to get comfortable with her telekinetics.
“What do you mean half the staff?” I said to Lydia after we’d gotten behind the counter.
She stamped the Khologs’ papers and slammed her window shut, her blond bangs falling into her eyes.
“Mr. Sampson is out today, and you guys are”—her violet eyes darted to the clock on her desk—“forty-five minutes late. Esme in receiving never showed.” Lydia drew her long, slender fingers to her temples and rubbed in little circles. “I swear, this place is a zoo.”
“Did Mr. Sampson say he was going to be out today?”
Lydia’s face went pinched, annoyed. I stepped back, remembering—you should never anger a pixie. “I’m just asking,” I said calmly, “for your sake.”
Lydia pinched her pink lips together and raised a questioning brow. “Wouldn’t you know? You’re his little pecksie.”
I turned on my heel and headed for Mr. Sampson’s office.
I was standing with my hands on hips, surveying the damage in Pete’s office when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I whirled, my stomach in my throat. “Oh,” I said, clutching my chest, “it’s just you.”
“And I’m thrilled to see you, too,” Parker said, his grin wry.
“I’m sorry. I was just hoping …” My eyes wandered back to the broken chains and I sighed, hugging my arms to my chest. “I guess I was kind of hoping last night didn’t happen. Or that Mr. Sampson would have come back by now.” My eyes raked over the damage, and I swallowed the lump in my throat. “It looks pretty bad in here.”
“Sampson must have gotten pretty violent.”
I gritted my teeth. “Or the people who came after him did.”
Parker opened his mouth and then closed it again; he patted me awkwardly on the shoulder. “We’ve got work to do.”
“Shouldn’t we look for clues here?” I said, stepping over crumpled furniture. “Or maybe we should go back to Sampson’s den, check to see if everything is okay over there? I already tried his home phone and his cell phone, and there was no answer on either.”
“Lawson,” Parker started. “We’ll get to all of that. But right now …”
“Fine,” I said, cutting him off in midsentence, “but give me a sec.” I closed the door gently, making a mental note to come back and gather clues. I gestured for Parker to follow me, and I headed to processing, where I found Lorraine, sitting at her desk, her black cat Costineau curled up in her lap. Lorraine grinned when she saw us and knitted her fingers together, elbows poised.