I burn rubber as I cross the bridge back into New Haven, my eyes flickering between the road and the rearview mirror. At the checkpoint, I even glance back to see if there is a menagerie of animals behind me.

“What are you looking for, Detective?” the bridge guard asks. “Got trouble?”

“No . . . just seeing if a great big bear is following me,” I mutter, shaking my head when he gives me a look. “Never mind. Too many hours, not enough sleep. Gotta roll.”

I peel out, cursing myself as I do. I sounded like a basket case. But after getting levitated by a possible demon, seeing four animals turn into the hottest guys I’ve ever seen who all give off an intense vibe of wanting to fuck me—and even weirder, the feeling’s mutual—I deserve a break.

I still don’t trust those four, regardless of their good looks and charm. After five minutes of constantly checking, I relax slightly, my thoughts on what the faeries told me.

I believe in a lot of weird things, have seen them firsthand, but this, that I might be some magically powerful fairy, is just too much. It hardly seems possible and it’s enough to give me a nervous breakdown. My head is starting to pound, a nasty migraine that’s worse than usual. And of course, according to my four hottie harbingers of doom, these headaches are just another sign that I’m a ticking magical timebomb.

Except I can’t remember a time in my life where there was even a hint that I could have powers. It’s not like I’ve been able to peek inside people’s heads all my life, although I will admit that I’ve been getting luckier with ‘hunches’ at work. And if the Four Hottsmen are any evidence, it could account for why I have golden hair and the gold specks in my eyes.

But the thought brings other questions to mind. If I’m half faerie, who were my parents? I was left on a doorstep like something out of a, pardon the pun, fairy tale. Which one was human, and which one was faerie? How did they meet? And what happened to them?

And maybe that’s why you were orphaned, says a voice in the back of my mind. Left on the doorstep of human folk because you’d be an outcast in either society. So, the only mercy they could show you was to leave you with people who didn’t know your secret.

Even more troublesome is my line of work. The 54th is made up of humans. In fact, some of the new laws we enforce dictate what kind of jobs Paranormals can hold and what times they can work. If the department finds out, what would happen? For sure, I’d lose my job, but looking at it strictly, I could be arrested.

And what of my powers? So far, I’ve only had one incident, this morning, that I could attribute to my supposed faerie gift, while the rest consisted of headaches, mood swings, and voices. Voices that I’m told are actual thoughts.

That is a powerful gift, my inner voice says. Even if you can’t hear them all . . . you’ll be able to pick out whispers in the wind, guide yourself by them . . . if they’re real.

I’m about a half-mile away from Joe’s location by Patriot’s Square when my phone rings and my dash tells me it’s Alyssa. “What’s up, ‘Lyssa? Gotta be quick. I’m following a lead at work.”

She doesn’t waste any time. “I hate these fucking Para Vigilante assholes!” she yells. “They all need to fucking burn!”

“‘Lyssa, what’s wrong?” I ask, worried. I know the town is getting more agitated every day. Who knows what’s happened now.

All the more important to shut down these vampires, says the voice in my head.

“I was at a cafe with a friend in between classes, and I saw . . .” Alyssa says before taking a deep breath and composing herself. “We saw them drag a shifter out just because he was talking to a human girl and beat him to within an inch of his life. They were about to lynch him.”

I shake my head. I’d heard about it right before I left with Joe on this. Didn’t realize Alyssa had witnessed it. I can guess who she was with. “I’m sorry to hear that. Are you safe, Alyssa? Where are you now?”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” Alyssa fumes. “This poor guy was beaten to near-death. Don’t worry about me.”

“‘Lyssa, you’re more important than anything.”

Unfortunately for me, my sister is sometimes like me. When she’s pissed and wants to talk, she listens about as well as my left foot. “Eve, I love you, but this is more important than me. I just . . . I can’t stand it anymore. This city’s a tinderbox! All this hate and going back and forth needs to stop or else. Shifters aren’t evil and neither are most vampires!”

She has a point . . . to a degree. But there is a vamp group going around feeding on humans, and they most certainly are evil.

“Listen, ‘Lyssa, I’m sorry you witnessed that, and you’re right, things are tense in New Haven. A lot of it is what the vamps are up to. I know you feel different from me, but there’s a reason we have the laws we do. And regardless of the laws, I’m going to keep fighting because I love you and want to protect you.”

Alyssa sighs. “I love you too, but I need you to do something about this, Eve.”

“Dr. Cameron, room 14A. Dr. Cameron, room 14A.”

The words are muffled as I blink open my eyes. I look around in a panic. I mean, I know I’m in a hospital. I’ve watched enough TV to recognize what the hell’s going on with that, at least. But . . . why? And where is Alyssa?

I try to sit up, but I’ve got stuff stuck to me, and it hurts to move. I try to look around the exam room I’m in, ready to scream when I see her. She’s lying in the bed next to me. She looks so tiny, and she’s covered in wires, which scares me. She’s got a big bandage on her head, but I can see the little squiggly line on the monitor. She’s alive.

Tears of happiness prick at my eyes as that fact filters in, but then I’m gripped by panic again as I start to remember what happened. Dad and Mom screaming at each other, the sound of screeching metal, then blackness. Where are Daddy and Mommy?

The curtain in the exam area opens, and a man in a white jacket blocks my view of Alyssa. “Hello, Eve,” a warm voice says. “I’m Dr. Lysom.”

I look up into the pale face of a very handsome man. “Hello,” I croak, trying to peer around him. Whatever he has to say . . . I want to see Alyssa.

However, Dr. Lysom doesn’t seem to get the clue. Instead, he pulls out a clipboard and starts scribbling. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m sore. Hurt all over,” I mumble. It feels like my entire chest area is full of ache. “Where are my parents?”

Dr. Lysom ignores my question and checks my monitors. “You’ll have some bruising, but you and your sister are lucky. You’re both going to be okay. She has a slight concussion, which is why she’s hooked up, but we’re going to let her sleep. You should too . . . get your strength back.”

“But what about—” I ask, but before I can get it out, the doctor is gone. Ignoring his comments, I look at Alyssa, trying to reach out to her at least as much as these tubes and wires will let me. “‘Lyssa?”

Nothing. Outside, a storm starts to brew, scaring me even more as lightning and massive booms of thunder rattle the windows and start to make the lights flicker. Nurses come in, checking on us. “Where’s my Mom and Dad?”

The two nurses look at each other, their faces growing pinched and quiet. “You need to sleep, honey,” one of them says, sticking a needle in the tube that’s running to my arm. “This can help.”

“But I . . .” I try to say more, but the entire world swims around and turns into a dark grayish, dreamless haze. I float in that for however long it is, and when I come to . . .

The sky’s black now, still punctuated by lightning bolts, but it’s later. I hear a rattle, and I look over to see Dr. Lysom at Alyssa’s bedside. “Soon,” he whispers to her. “So soon.”

I black out again, waking up the next morning. Alyssa’s awake too, and they soon move us to another room, but no matter who I ask, nobody tells me anything about our parents. I try to stay brave in front of Alyssa, who doesn’t remember anything since getting into the car. I guess that’s better than me. I remember everything.

That night, another rattle wakes me up, and I sit up, my heart pounding. Something . . . I was dreaming about the crash. Thunder booms, another storm, and the lights flicker. I hear the rattle again and look, seeing someone in a white coat in the dark next to Alyssa’s bed. They’re bent over, but I can’t tell much more.

“Dr. Lysom?” I ask.

My words are cut off into a scream as he stands up, and I see his face, twisted and changed, his teeth and lips stained black that I know would be red if the lights were on . . . stained in my sister’s blood.

It was only my piercing scream that brought hospital personnel into the room. Dr. Lysom bit several nurses before he was staked by an on-duty guard who’d just happened to be keeping track of the news and had sort of figured out what to do. It was at the start of the Para Wars, literally the first few days, when nobody was sure what was going on, and the hospital hadn’t started checking for Paranormal workers. They were simply happy to have a doctor who’d volunteered to work extra overnight shifts.

From that day forward, I vowed I would do anything I could to protect Alyssa. With my parents dead, I didn’t want to leave her side. I was the only thing she had. She’s the only thing I had. But Alyssa was too young to remember any of it. For her, the horrors started later, when we were put in the orphanages and life went from middle-class happy to . . . not.

“She’ll come around,” I tell myself. “She’ll eventually see for herself the world just isn’t so simple as trusting in everyone’s innate goodness, that vampires tend to be devious and manipulative. The good ones are very few and far between.”

Suddenly, in the street up ahead, I see something that makes my heart stop in my chest. I don’t know what it is, just that it’s black and shadowy and huge and it’s blocking my path. Afraid I’m going to crash, I swerve hard.

Unfortunately for me, my swerve puts me right in the path of a Spandex-clad biker and her manic pedaling. I slam on the brakes as she leans over hard, almost clipping a parked Volkswagen with her hip. “What are you doing, you crazy bitch!” the woman yells as I come to a stop. “I’m calling the cops!”

“I am a cop,” I grumble, flashing my badge before pulling away. I look back in my rearview mirror, but there’s nothing. No black shadow, no huge shape, just a very pissed off woman giving me the finger.

I grab my phone, about to call Joe and tell him why I’m taking so damn long, when I see that I’ve got a message. Curious, I open my app and see that it’s an audio message, marked Carter1.

I turn the volume up and put it on speaker, pressing Play. My already hammering heart rate jacks another notch up as I hear the captain’s voice.

“I’m telling you, John, I want that bitch out of my squad.”

There’s a shuffling sound, and my mind places it. I’m listening to a recorded phone call. “Shaughny, I get it. Carter’s a pain in your ass, but she hasn’t broken the rules. At least, no more than anyone else in that Judge Squad you run.”

John . . . the name rings bells, and I place it. John Fairchild, deputy mayor, has known the captain for a long time. He’s the only one who’d call him Shaughny, and he’s the captain’s political friend.

“I don’t care if she’s following every rule. She’s a political hire, goddammit. She’s a cunt who’s a waste of a desk. I don’t care how many cases she closes,” the captain replies. “I’d rather have a dog than her. I can at least pet a dog.”

The conversation goes on, and with each exchange, I get more and more pissed off. I’m seeing red with every word.

“Listen, Shaughny, until you can give me a reason to get her out of your Squad, you’ll have to deal with her.”

“That won’t be a problem. If I must, I’ll make sure the bitch bites off more than she can chew.”

The audio cuts out, but before I can try and figure out who sent me the message or what the hell’s going on, I’m close to my destination. I’ll have to set it aside for now.

I see Joe, leaning against his car, sipping a coffee, and looking at his old-fashioned watch. He’s the only guy I know who still wears a non-smart watch as something other than a fashion statement. “About time you showed up. If you’d been any longer, I would . . .” he says before peering at me. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Later,” I reply, waving it off. “Time to get down to business.”