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only it was trying to catch people bringing potions into the temple. Usually I was annoyed by such invasions. But this time I found myself enjoying the tingle of energy across my skin and the adrenaline surge from the contact with magic. Since neither of us was wearing a protection amulet, we passed through without incident. When I emerged from the doorway, I cleared my throat, hoping Morales wouldn’t notice the slight flush to my cheeks.
    A security guard dressed in a sharp business suit met us by the front desk. “The Hierophant is expecting you in the garden,” he said.
    “Our task force wizard will be arriving shortly to begin the forensics,” Morales said. “His name is Kichiri Ren.”
    He nodded. “I’ll show him to the room where the potions were taken, and you can join him after you speak to Her Holiness.”
    I glanced meaningfully at Morales, so he’d take note Aphrodite was presenting as female that morning.
    As the guard walked away, I hung back to give my partner some last-minute advice. “Whatever you do, don’t touch anything while we’re out there.”
    “That’s a good rule of thumb in most whorehouses, isn’t it?” Morales asked with a cocked brow.
    “True,” I said, “but I was talking about her garden.” I used the feminine pronoun since we knew Aphrodite was presenting as female that day.
    He paused and shot me a sardonic grin. “I definitely never touch whores’
gardens
, Prospero.”
    I gave up. He’d see what I meant soon enough, anyway. “Whatever. Just try to behave.”
    A few moments later we stepped out into a large courtyard in the center of the building. According to local legend, this space had served as the setting for many an orgy for Babylon’s rich and famous, but it was also home to the madam’s famous collection of poisonous plants, which was famous in Cauldron lore.
    Aphrodite herself stood at the rear of the courtyard, bathed in a shaft of sunlight. I was pretty sure she’d planned the position for effect. When we entered the courtyard, she looked up and flipped the long side of her hair back over her shoulder. The left half wore a formfitting red wiggle dress with red stiletto, while the right half wore half a collared shirt, slacks, and a single black wing tip. As she moved forward, she led with the left side and a femme fatale smile.
    “Kate—Oh, excuse me, I mean, Detective Prospero,” she said, giving me a once-over that left me feeling like I’d come up lacking. Her seductive voice twined through the room like smoke. She sashayed toward us on one high heel and one thick-soled men’s dress shoe.
    When I’d told Morales that Aphrodite was half-female and half-male, I’d meant it literally. The left side of the face was perfectly made up with a shimmery nude eye, bold black eyeliner, and half a mouth lacquered in bold red lipstick. The other half bore carefully cultivated stubble, a bold, unwaxed brow, and not a single lick of makeup.
    The weird part was that her lady side was as beautiful and conventionally feminine as her right side was ruggedly handsome and conventionally male. The gender differences extended down her entire body from the clothing to the body hair to the way she was graceful on the feminine left and confident on the masculine right. But to me, the most disconcertingfeature was how the voice would change depending on which gender the Hierophant chose at the time.
    When she caught sight of Morales, her cat eyes flared with prurient interest. “Who’s your friend?” she asked me in a feline tone, but she kept her eyes on him.
    Morales took her hand and bent over it like a chivalrous knight. “Special Agent Drew Morales, MEA.”
    Aphrodite’s eyes flared and her lips jutted forward into a pout. “Whatever have I done to deserve the interest of the Magic Enforcement Agency?”
    “Nothing yet,” I said. She looked over at me grudgingly as she continued to hold Morales’s hand. “The BPD is backlogged with the Blue Moon coming, so