Some days, an elf can’t get a break. I’m overworked, underpaid and underappreciated, and up to my lavender eyeballs in missing and murdered shifters. To make matters worse, I’ve acquired a dog. Sort of. He’s not actually a dog. I don’t know his name or anything about him other than the fact that he’s mostly hairless and is blind in one eye—and he’s a witness to one of the unsolved shifter murders that’s keeping me up at night. We found him at a crime scene, injured and scared, and I just can’t make myself lock him up for obstruction of justice, even though I probably should. He won’t shift back, so here I am with a dog that isn’t a dog following me everywhere and eating off my plate every time I turn around. The weirdest part is that I’m not sure I want to go back to living without him constantly underfoot.