I winked, then blinked back. Sorry. Hey, your owner wants to know why you haven’t been as peppy lately? You feeling okay?
I glanced up at the clock—only five minutes till I could close up shop.
It winked its left eye several times. Okay? I’m feeling better than ever.
I winked my right eye several times. Really? How so?
“You okay?” The guy leaned away from the table and curled his lip at me. “You look like you’re having a conniption.”
I shot him a flat look and pressed my fingers to my temples. “My powers work in mysterious ways.” Don’t judge me. I turned back to the snail, who was winking and blinking away like mad.
I’m flying over the weeds. I’m on a rainbow trip to a garden of plenty filled with untouched leaves and stalks that reach to heaven and—
Okay. I think I knew what was going on here. I turned back to the snail’s owner and laced my fingers together under my chin. “Are you growing some ‘special’ plants at home?” I made air quotes, then tucked my hands innocently back under my chin.
The guy paled and blinked rapidly behind his glasses.
I cocked my head and plastered on a sickly sweet smile. “You alright? You look like you’re having a conniption.”
His throat bobbed. “I uh—no—why would—”
I nodded. “Thought so. I’m guessing your special little guy here got into your secret stash and ate some of the leaves. He appears to be on the trip of his little snail life.” I was fighting hard not to laugh. The situation was ludicrous.
The guy slumped in his seat, pale. “You’re—you’re not going to turn me in, are you?” He dragged both hands through his dark hair, which left it sticking up at odd angles. “Oh snakes, they’re gonna take Squishy from me, aren’t they?” He dropped his head into his hands. “I’m an unfit snail father.”
A grin tugged at the corner of my mouth. Who? I wanted to ask him. Who would be coming to take away a grown man’s pet snail? And yes, technically growing a certain variety of magical plant was illegal, but really, who was I to judge? It was harmless… unless you were Squishy, apparently. Though even the extra-slow-moving snail would survive.
I cleared my throat, and the guy lifted his face, expression contorted in a grimace. “Please don’t call the police!”
I pressed my lips tight together to keep from snickering. Oh, I couldn’t wait to tell Will and Heidi about this one. Because yeah, I was sure the police would definitely get right on this urgent case of the high pet snail.
I folded my arms and gave him a hard look. “I should. I really should. But if you promise to keep a better eye on Squishy and never let it happen again, I’ll let it go—this once.”
I blinked in surprise as the guy lurched across the table and took one of my hands in both of his. “Oh. Thank the goddess.” He pressed his forehead to the table while Squishy continued to inch towards the edge, eyes blinking out of sync.
Ooh! Look at all the pretty colors!
I glanced up at the clock that partially hid the big crack that ran down the wall. 4:00 a.m. Sweet, sweet relief.
I pried my hand out of the guy’s grip and he looked up. I gave him a tight-lipped smile and flipped my palm up. “Glad to have been of service. Tips are encouraged.”
THE CLINIC
Minutes later, I fished my keys out of my jeans pocket and gritted my teeth as I strained to work the lock closed. I’d complained to my landlady, who had the delightful nickname “the dragon,” about it half a dozen times. She seemed to think the fact that I’d consistently been late on my rent (until recently when I started my police consulting gig) meant she could neglect fixing anything in my apartment.
She was right—there wasn’t much I could do. Except continue to complain to her about it, and if she thought that was going to let up, she greatly underestimated how annoying I could be.
The lock turned, and I rattled the door to double check it was secure. Peeling band posters and graffiti covered it. The optimist in me liked to think of it as an ever-changing work of public art. I curled my lip. Right.
Cool rain pattered my head. I flipped the hood of my sweatshirt up and jogged into the wet, bustling street. I headed for my friend Will’s back alley vet clinic.
Heidi, black hair wound around her head in a milkmaid’s braid, let me in. I tugged my hood back and looked around. The small lobby was empty, the flickering fluorescents overhead casting a sickly glow off the linoleum. Heidi grinned at me. “Busy night?” She moved back behind the tall counter and slipped on her jacket.
I followed her and leaned my folded arms on the counter. “Unfortunately.”
She rolled her eyes. “Wish I could say the same. I got so bored.”
I looked toward the swinging double doors that led to the exam room. “What’s Will doing?”
She raised her brows and shot me a significant look. “No idea. He went out.”
I frowned. “He left? When’s he coming back?”
She shrugged and stuffed a stack of magazines with magically moving models on the covers into her purse. “He told me I could close up early.”
I scoffed. “Okay, weird. Where’d he go?”
Heidi shrugged her purse over her shoulder. She sported long pink spandex shorts and a highlighter-yellow crop top, with a furry short coat over it all. She was the only person I knew who could pull the look off.
“He said he had to make a house call.”
Her tone clearly expressed her doubt and I didn’t blame her. My friend had been one of the island’s top surgeons until he lost his temper at a fancy shindig and publicly shifted into a bear. He’d lost it all and been forced to
