Casually pulling into the parking lot at the lumber mill outside of Allentown: anyone could pull that off. But as I stared from the massive building to the open expanse of concrete and cars, I felt wary. This should be simple. All I had to do was stroll into the lobby, approach the receptionist with a cheesy smile, and ask her to take some photos of their glass displays. Any person off the street who appeared mentally coherent should be able to do it. As I walked around the cars, a thought came to mind: Why hadn’t the dragon done this particular thing? Maybe he’d tried to use the nymph to fetch it? The zmee could’ve used another glamour to change the nymph’s appearance. Something wasn’t right here. The factory gate had been open when I drove through, but the whole property had a ten-foot high fence. I spotted enough security lights to rival a penitentiary. The stench of chemicals made my nose wrinkle. As I approached the complex, a bitter tang coursed through my nostrils and raced down my tongue.
