The boots contained the pale-skinned legs of an angel. A dead angel. Her once-ivory wings had faded to a dull, lifeless gray beneath her, and her golden eyes had dimmed to a decrepit almond color. Her marvelous white-blonde hair had already begun to fall out and lay in tufts around her head.

Orange dust caked her nostrils and powdered her pale cheeks and upper lip.

With a face made ugly by wrinkles of disgust, Lori turned and trotted back to her restaurant to call the police.

2

Dru came back into the living room holding a couple of brews and handed one to Leery. She smiled at her mother and father, who sat across from Leery on the other couch. “Are you sure you won’t have anything?” she asked.

“No, no,” said Agrat. “Coffee this late gives me heartburn.”

“It’s all about training your stomach, I’ve found,” said Leery.

Agrat smiled at him. “You do seem to…um…train hard.”

Leery grinned. “I can’t get enough of the stuff. Maybe it’s being a cop, or maybe it’s something to do with all that coffee in the Pack meetings, but I’ve gotten so I feel sort of naked without a coffee in my hand.”

“Yes, well…” said Hercule, looking away.

“It’s about time for the new Grand Cynosure’s press conference,” said Dru. She sat next to Leery and picked up the remote. “I wonder what all the hubbub is about this time.”

“No doubt there will be more taxes,” grumped Hercule.

“Or another census.” Agrat smiled at Dru. “It seems knowing everyone’s true identity has become so important of late.”

Dru shrugged and grinned. “I got tired of dancing around it.”

Hercule’s mouth turned down at the edges. “I shall have words with that…that…mosquito!”

“I’ll come with you,” said Leery with a feral grin. “I’ve got a thing or two to say to that snarky bastard myself.”

“Well, I can assure you, Jeffery DeRothenberg’s lineage is not in question, but you’re welcome to stand as my second.” Hercule waved his hand. “This thing, these bad feelings between our two groups, it’s enough. We should embrace one another. After all, both of our kinds lost the war.”

“I like the way you think, Hercule,” said Leery.

“Daddy, there’s no reason to make a fuss,” said Dru.

“A fuss? No reason to make a fuss? I shall not abide a…a…a leech like DeRothenberg showing you such disrespect! I shall‍—‍”

“Shh,” said Agrat, swatting his arm. “His Eminence is taking the podium. Turn it up, Dizzy.”

Dru clicked off the mute, and they all stared at the newly-sworn Grand Cynosure as he took the podium, the cast bronze pentagram of the Covenancy hanging from the black velvet curtains behind him. He climbed up on the box that lent him the height to see over the podium, tapped the microphone with a sharpened, claw-like fingernail, and cleared his throat. He took a moment to lick his palm with his long black tongue and use his viscous saliva to slick down the wispy white hair that danced on the crown of his head. The tips of his pointed ears twitched at a whine of feedback, and he tugged at his long white beard.

“I simply cannot believe the entities in our great Covenancy elected a Redcap!” snarled Hercule.

“He renounced that association, dearest,” said Agrat in a long-suffering tone. “He’s just an ordinary goblin now. And besides, the Redcaps are just an ethnic pride group.”

“Hmph. Ordinary goblin, indeed!”

The Grand Cynosure cast his all-black, beady-eyed gaze directly at the camera and licked his lips. “My fellow supernaturals, citizens of the Covenancy, in case you’ve been in a coma these past months, I am Fidonk Slypinch, and I am your Grand Cynosure,” he began. “As a collection of entities, we face a grave danger. A danger most grave,” he said. “Yes, and as with all grave dangers, this one is most banefully hazardous. It is true. The Covenancy was once a place rife with opportunities for all supernatural kind. It was like a dream. A great dream. A delightsome fancy. A figment of awesome beauty. Yes.” He gripped the edges of the podium, nodded, and rocked forward on his toes. “Yes, I said ‘was once,’ for it is no more! No, don’t take to Twitter to tell me I’m wrong, for I am not! No! I know things, citizens of the Covenancy. Arch eruditions of the cloistered and covert variety. Secret things. Yes, fellow mystical beings, I, and I alone, can see the entire tapestry. You would do well to heed my words.”

“If only he’d use those words to actually say something,” grumbled Leery, slurping his coffee.

“Shh,” murmured Dru.

“This peril we face”‍—‍Slypinch shook his head sadly‍—‍“this trouble that presents itself as a triviality, this mournful menace…” Again, his beady eyes stared into the camera. “It must not be allowed to grow unchecked! We must band together and stamp out our common foe! No, magical beings. I say, no! We must not turn a blind eye to this threat, this thing that snares so many of our youth, this susceptibility to distressful exposure! No!” The Grand Cynosure drew in a deep, hissing breath. “Yes, it is true! No. We must not allow this thing to go on unopposed. And for that reason, on this very day, I directed the Covenancy agencies of justice to create a network of togetherness and group one with another, bound by a common cause, dedicated to working side-by-side in order to stamp out this menace. Yes, mark your calendars, as history will no doubt record this as a great day in the long tale of supernatural kind. It shall be remembered as the greatest of grand acts of my administration. Mark my words, entities of power and entities of low birth, alike. Remember what I’ve said tonight!” He nodded at the camera, then rocked back on his heels, smiling. “I will take a few relevant questions from the press, but do not make it awkward as you did during my campaign, or I will leave.”

“Uh…” said Leery.

“Yes, you in the front. Yes, yes, the fairy with the red hair. You look intelligent in your gossamer gown and sparkly sparkles. What, my dear, would you have me explain to you?”

“Uh, yeah… Thank you, Your Eminence. I’m Aoife ó Briain, of SNN. My question is a simple one. What‍—‍”

“Then, by all means, young Aoife, ask it. Ask it, and I shall educate you.”

“Uh, yes. What is the danger as you see it?”

Slypinch reacted as if she’d thrown water in his face and stumbled a step back. His pale gray skin went pink as it flushed with anger. “I would’ve thought better of a lass from the Emerald Isle!”

“I’m from Minneapolis, and I mean no offense, Your Eminence. It’s just that‍—‍”

“Well, deary, if you mean no offense, stop your foolish mouth. What is the danger, you dare to ask me? What could be so perilous as to demand a full-scale response as I’ve described?” He gripped the edges of the podium with white-knuckled fingers. “Well, I’ll tell you! Illegal snacks and the vile creatures that create and distribute them!” He raised his blazing gaze from Aoife’s face and glared around the room. “Surely, you all see it!”

The room filled with the susurration of low whispers, shuffling paper, and truth be told, a few guffaws.

“Oh, aye! Cheez-Its are diabolical! The gateway snack, they are, and our youth are tromping through that gateway by the thousands! Why, my own grandson can be found with the devilish orange dust ‘round his nostrils most times of the day! Worse, still, I have notebooks full of reports of women who sit around their homes smoking the foul stuff while their children go hungry, their homes fall to disrepair and filth, and their husbands stray! And don’t get me started on Hostess Fruit Pies! Or Cheetos! No, people of the Covenancy! No! We must not turn away from the ugly truths as I see them! We must not abide snacks a moment longer!” He brought his gaze back to Aoife and stared daggers at her. “There, my dear girl, I’ve answered your foolish question!”

“Um, thank you, Your Eminence.”

“Your Eminence?” asked another reporter, a stone troll from the Rocky Mountain News.

“Yes?”

“Following up on Aoife’s question…uh…can you tell us exactly who you’ve instructed to do exactly what?”

“Are you‍—‍” Slypinch froze, staring at the troll for a few moments. “Why, I‍—‍” He shook his head as if troubled by irksome mosquitos. “It’s so perfectly clear‍—‍” His eyes grew wide, and his rubbery lips shook for a moment before he yelled, “Argh!” The Cynosure turned a grayish-red and stomped one foot. He flipped out his phone and fired off a text in a flurry of angry thumbs. “You…you…idiots have done it again! See if I take any questions next time!” He whirled the wrong direction and jumped down from his box, then spun around, confused for a moment, before spotting the door and tromping toward it.

“Your Eminence!” cried the troll. “I’m a huge supporter! I’m just…confused…” He trailed off as the Grand Cynosure stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

“Well, I’m glad I watched that,” said Leery in a sardonic tone. “I feel so enlightened.”

Hercule snickered.

Leery opened his mouth to crack yet another joke, but both his and Dru’s phones rang. “Uh-oh,” he said, digging for his phone. “Both of them together usually mean one thing.”

Dru swept into the kitchen and answered her phone.

Leery fumbled his phone out and accepted the call. “Oriscoe.” He listened for a moment and craned his head to look at Dru. “Right. Be there in a few.” He disconnected the call and turned back to Agrat and Hercule. “Sorry, folks. We’re going to have to call this short. An angel gave up the ghost over in Tribeca.”

“Sorry, Mommy and Daddy,” said Dru as she came back into the room. “You can stay here if you’d like, but I’m not sure when we’ll—I’ll—be back.”

“Our little baby is so important,” said Agrat with a warm smile. “She’s even called to investigate the death of angels, honey.”

“More’s the pity,” said Hercule, but he smiled warmly at Dru.