Jeffy’s repairs didn’t take all that long. When he strutted out in his leopard skintights two hours later, looking good, truly good, and knowing it, I gave him the once-over. His new eye and ear matched the old ones perfectly, of course; or perhaps both had been replaced. Regardless, it was the results that mattered, and I couldn’t tell he’d been injured at all. Esteban Grammatica had worked his usual wonders.
“Great job, huh?” Jeffy said, dropping to all fours and shapeshifting. As leopard, he bounded forward to rub against my hip, then drew back and mock-growled.
I laughed easily. “About time,” I said, standing. “Lots to do tomorrow. Let’s get going.”
Hangman and I had been watching a documentary on a colony of penguinmen in Alaska. It had been the only entertainment vid we could find
