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He took a tentative sip, smacked his lips, then nodded in approval. “As good as the first time.”

So this trance state didn’t make Anita any worse at her job, just put her in a blank personality limbo. Then what were those charms supposed to accomplish in the first place? What was Happy, Inc. really up to?

“Pardon, gents,” Houston said, slipping into the conversation. “But what are we whispering about over here?”

I liked to think that Morrow and I had developed a sort of nonverbal language over the course of our partnership, but his half-shrug of a shoulder and a scrunched face needed no translating, the universal signs for “Eh.”

It was Houston, anyway, the sweeter of the SeraphiCorp pair we’d met. By a country mile, pun intended. And at least he asked nicely. His partner Angelica would have launched into a sermon of fire and brimstone to bully us into coughing up the deets.

So we told him, and his eyes lit up with recognition the moment I mentioned the words ‘Happy Links.’

“You guys have been investigating them too, then?” I asked.

Houston glanced around, as if checking for prying ears, here in the deafening loudness of a drag club. “Same thing we’ve noticed. People who wear the charms go all lopsided, but there’s no rhyme or reason when the trance kicks in. It doesn’t make any sense.”

At least SeraphiCorp had the same findings. It was kind of nice that Houston was tipping closer to friend territory than just a tenuous ally. I didn’t mind sharing information if it meant we could both get a paycheck and protect some innocent mundanes at the end of the day.

But before I could say anything else, the club’s music climbed several decibels. Carly Rae Jepsen’s Call Me Maybe thumped through the speakers. Xtra Xtra trotted out onto the stage lipsyncing the lyrics into a giant red telephone.

Morrow pumped his fists into the air. “She’s doing the same number! I love this one.”

Houston watched the stage with starry eyes, mouth open in a dazzled, lopsided smile. Fucking adorable. Again I restrained the urge to cuff Morrow by the ears.

But Morrow did something I wouldn’t have expected. He reached for his wallet, pulled out a wad of one-dollar bills, then shoved them into Houston’s hands. Houston looked up in confusion. So cute. The poor thing had never been to a drag bar before.

“Go and tip her,” I shouted.

His eyes went wide. “Like a stripper?”

“Sure. But don’t stuff them in her panties or anything.”

I pointed at the club’s other patrons. They held out their dollar bills at arm’s length, far enough that Xtra Xtra could collect them while still offering plenty of space for her to continue performing. Houston tipped his hat, then gave me and Morrow grateful looks before he charged into the fray.

What a cutie. If Xtra Xtra turned him down — nah. Unfortunately, Morrow was very much my type. Big, dumb, and presumably hung. Okay, so he wasn’t dumb, not really. He did master scrolls and scribing, after all, and to survive and thrive as a field agent at one of the biggest corpos in the Valley? Under Enyo Sakamoto’s command, at that?

Morrow leaned into me a little too close in his excitement, the heat of his breath and his body almost too much to bear. “I think someone has a little crush on our favorite drag queen.”

“Your favorite drag queen, maybe,” I scoffed. “But I agree. It’s very cute.”

“I know he’s a contractor, not a field agent,” he said. “It’s a dangerous line of work either way. It’s nice knowing that someone who works for the corpos can do a little dating.”

I forced myself to smile, speaking through clenched teeth. “Yeah. Awfully nice. Maybe you’ll find someone, too.”

He grabbed his drink and grinned. “Maybe.”

That was my cue to chug my beer before I was tempted to bean him with the bottle. I peered into its rim, checking to see if I had enough left to dramatically finish and slam on the table.

My hair stood on end when I saw a woman’s face staring back from the bottom of the bottle.

“We should talk,” said Freyja.

I dropped the bottle, spilling the rest of my beer on the table and all over my jeans. Morrow quickly grabbed some napkins, mopping up the table before reaching for my lap.

“I’m fine!” I said, guarding my nether regions, knowing I would spring a boner or come on the spot if he so much as brushed his knuckles against my fly.

“Are you sure?” he asked, more than a little concerned. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. I can get you another beer, if you want.”

“I’m okay,” I said. “No more beers for me tonight.”