“So I assume that when they heard there was going to be a reunion show, they pressed you to talk to me.” I paused. “Wait. Adrian said the reunion show was your idea. Did you . . . ?”

“Please don’t think badly of me. I just needed an excuse to talk to you without calling out of the blue, and I thought this might be a nice opportunity for you. Something I could do that wouldn’t cost us a lot of money. We’re hoping to need it very soon.” Brenna cast a quick, hopeful look in my direction.

I nodded slowly. “I can put you in touch with Candy. She’s William’s primary wife, and she’s handling all of the visitors who come to see him and discuss breeding.”

Brenna looked appalled. “What? No. I don’t want to borrow another woman’s husband. None of us are looking to become the other woman. We’re better raised than that. Our mothers saw to that.”

“Then what are you looking for?”

“I understand how this is going to sound, because you’re human, and your species has the luxury of doing things rather differently than ours.” That apologetic note was back in her voice. “There’s one male in the world. We didn’t think there were any, and while we can keep having daughters by ourselves forever, we require a male if we’re going to have any sons. William . . . when you found him, you opened the doors for our species to continue, for us to have a future. But that means we don’t have the option to be coy and demure.”

“Uh-huh . . .” I said, somewhat confused.

“You know the Manhattan Nest. Would you be willing to act as our go-between, to help us arrange the purchase of one of their sons?”

I said nothing.

Brenna, who was a dragon, no matter how human she sometimes seemed, said hurriedly, “We have money. We have oodles of money. There are over sixty of us in the Nest, and we’ve been in Los Angeles since the twenties. We own and rent property, we have investments, and we’re willing to liquidate as much as necessary in order to offer a fair price. Every Nest has its own strengths and weaknesses, and we’ve learned that you have to spend money to make money—that’s something a lot of dragons never grasp. So we have more funds on hand than most. We have sufficient space at the Nest to house a fully grown male, and we have all the deeds and property documentation to make sure he’d never have to be moved. We could be good wives, Verity. Not my generation, it’s too late for us, but our daughters. They could grow up with their husband. They could learn to love each other. We could give them that.”

I said nothing.

“Love is a human aspiration, and yours has been the dominant culture for so long that we want it, my sisters and I. We want it for our daughters. We don’t want to pay for a conjugal visit with someone else’s husband; we want to bring a husband home, and raise him in love, and see him grow to love his new family.” Brenna slanted a glance at me, as if gauging my reaction. “We’re not human. It’s not in us to give something for nothing. I know if our positions were reversed, I would feel for the daughters of Manhattan, and I would still demand payment. It would show their seriousness, and their dedication to taking care of our boy. Please. They know you. They’ll trust you. Please, help us.”

Candy didn’t necessarily trust me—she tended to view me as only temporarily outside the Covenant, which was an unfortunately common attitude in parts of the cryptid community—but William did, and money spoke loudly where dragons were concerned. I wanted to balk at the idea of selling a baby like it was a goldfish, but what other choice did the dragons have? Their species was on the verge of dying out. Male dragons were born the size of human infants. They could be moved while they were young. Once they became adults, like William, they were stuck.

“I’d need you, and at least one other representative from your Nest, to go to Manhattan with me,” I said slowly. “William and Candy will want to meet you. You’d have to be willing to pay for transport. There’s no way we’d be able to take the baby on a plane.”

“You may never hear these words from another dragon as long as you live, but: we are willing to pay whatever it takes,” said Brenna. “If you want to charge us a negotiation fee, we’ll give it to you. Even if things fall through, we’re willing to pay you for trying.”

The Be-Well Motel was visible up ahead, neon sign guttering like a bug zapper the size of a billboard. “I wouldn’t charge you for this,” I said. “Helping the cryptid community is my job.”

“Does that mean you’ll do it?”