“You want to do an off-site interrogation?” I ask incredulously as we climb the stairs. In the five minutes since I got here, I’m on pins and needles, my bitch factor jumping through the roof and my fingers still shaking in anger. I can’t get my mind off the danger I was in, the Fae, the captain . . . it’s too much, and I’m on mental overload. Now Joe wants to seriously bend the rules. “Why?”

“Because if we need to call in DHS to Beaver Island this asshole, I’d prefer to not have to do the transfer paperwork,” Joe says. “And the captain said after the ruckus the Ripley case created, he doesn’t want anything newsworthy in the precinct. Still, it’s our ass in the breeze, so I want your backup. Listen, before we do this . . . you sure you’re okay? You look tore up from the floor up, and I mean that in here," Joe says, tapping his temple.

“Oh, shit got very real today,” I reply, pausing. Joe and I have been partners for a long time, and being a partner is kind of like being in a marriage, except you tell your partner things you wouldn’t even tell a spouse. Not that I’d know, but that’s the saying. “Okay, all that I’m about to say, it’s total black hat.”

Joe stops, surprised. While nobody in the 54th plays things totally by the book, I’m not one to call black hat on something unless it’s vitally important. “Okay.”

I don’t know why, probably because it’s still so weird I’m trying to wrap my own mind around it, but I decide to start with the call. “On the way up here, my sister called me. Apparently, she was at that beating we just missed the call on—the shifter?”

Joe nods. “I’ve heard little bits. She saw?”

“Yeah, it really freaked her out.”

“Okay, I’m sorry she saw that, but what else? I feel like there’s more.”

“I checked out the Broadmoor. It was empty for the most part, but those people were seriously screwed up.”

“What do you mean?” Joe asks.

“Try a library that is a ‘how-to’ on Satan worship, witchcraft, and more,” I reply, shivering as I recall the stuff I saw. “I couldn’t read most of it, but it was . . . wrong. Their grand hall was even scarier. There was a . . . a shadow.”

“A what?”

I tell Joe about the dark voice and being yanked into the air, leaving out Cole and company but instead saying a stray round from my gun opened a window and let in enough light. It’s a terrible lie, but the best I can produce on the spur of the moment. “I’m just saying, Joe, I swear they did some shit up there, and while I didn’t find any vamps, we need to keep eyes on that place. It could be . . . I don’t know. Something is going on.”

I nod, knowing I’m leaving out a lot. Still, Joe’s giving me the look that tells me he understands. Thank God I left out the part about my being the Halfling savior of the world. “I know, I know . . . crazy, right?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Joe replies. “Hell, the world only figured out that Paras existed what, twenty years ago? I’d say something happened at the Broadmoor place, but you don’t know what. And who knows? Maybe there is a vamp tie-in. Question is, are you okay? You going to have a nervous breakdown on me? You’ve been a bit off for at least a week, and that’s got me worried more than dark tentacles from outer space.”

I shake my head, chuckling a little. “I’m not that far yet. Let’s just question this asshole. Who is he?”

“Cody Reigns, twenty-three years old,” Joe says. “Extreme Para sympathizer. He was active in the local college groups pushing for Para rights when he was a student. All well and dandy, but I’d bet my next paycheck he’s a thrall.”

“Voluntary or not?” I ask. Thralls, voluntary ones, are the lowest kind of scum, in my opinion. Wanting to help Paras who are wrongly persecuted is admirable, but volunteering to help vamps break the law just so that you might get turned yourself? That’s something else. “Last word on the street was a voluntary thrall needed to deliver upward of a hundred victims to their Master to fulfill their contracts.”

“Cody’s got the ability to pull it off. Good looks, charisma . . . he can get girls to follow him just about anywhere,” Joe says.

I nod, my stomach churning. Thralls. Now there’s a group that I’d deny their right to a fair trial if it were up to me. “Fine. Who’s the good cop?”

Joe smirks. “Who says there’s a good cop?”

We go into the interrogation room, a rather normal-looking office room that has a camera setup in the corner.

The guy sitting in the room, his left arm handcuffed to the table leg, is definitely panty bait. Dye job blond, with a ripped physique that’s either his winning the genetic lottery, a shitload of time in the gym, or probably both. There’s a couple of tattoos, all of them gothic and vamp-like. The vamps have a marking culture just like the street gangs do.

Probably the most infuriating part, though, is the smirk on his face. It reminds me of the captain, and the way he just smirks at me, the thoughts running through his head that I’m just a waste of space, a—what did he call me? Oh, yeah, some dumb cunt. “If I wanted a lap dance, I could get one anytime I wanted. You’re a little overdressed though.”

My eyes narrow, and I feel a pulse beating behind my eyeballs. Forget calming down. Time to run with it.

“If I wanted a cocky limp-dicked thrall, I’d just go down to Old Haven any Friday night and have my choice,” I reply, grabbing another chair and sitting down. “You’re here to talk.”

“I don’t have to tell you shit!” Cody growls, and Joe gets in front of him, his hand cocked back. He looks like he wants to backhand him but glances at the camera. Cody smirks. “Yeah, that’s right. Don’t want a case on you, do you?”

Joe lowers his hand, glancing at me before sitting down. “Fine. But a warning, boy. You show some respect to my partner. Now, word is you’ve been helping the vampires traffic in humans.”

Cody laughs. “Respect? You two pieces of shit don’t deserve any. The only respect I might show you two is that I’ll let you watch and see how a real man fucks a bitch when I’ve got my cock balls-deep in her ass.”

I can feel my breath quicken, my rage barely controlled as Joe looks furious, and my hands clench as we go back and forth. Every question is responded to with a taunt, Cody smirking at us the whole time. It pisses me off, and my headache continues to pound as we continue. Finally, he gets tired of the game and leans back. “Whatever. I’m done with you two fucksticks. I want my lawyer.”

“You know damn well the Para Codes suspend Miranda for certain crimes,” Joe tells him. It’s an old saw with these slime. They know the rules, but TV keeps it going. ‘I want my lawyer, I want my lawyer, I want my lawyer.’ It’s all just to get under our skin. “Now, let’s try again. On the fifth of this month, you—”

In the back of my mind, I hear the buzzing start again, and I swear . . .

“He’s lying,” I say, not knowing if it’s voices in my head or just another hunch. But this is a stronger hunch than anything I’ve ever felt before. “He wasn’t at work . . . he was in Old Haven, the River district.”

Joe gives me a raised eyebrow, and Cody looks at me in shock. “Something you want to fill me in on?” Joe asks.

I nod, looking Cody in the eyes and going with my gut. “He was at work. He works for someone named Marcus.”

Cody goes white in the face while Joe looks surprised. “That true, Cody?”

I ignore Joe, focusing on Cody as the knowledge becomes slightly more concrete. It’s like static, like a radio trying to tune into a station too far away, and I can only get every fifth word. If I can only focus. I stare at Cody, willing myself to focus, and the static clears. “Who’s Marcus?”

Shit . . . how the fuck does she know this?

I smirk, touching my temple. “Come on, Cody. You can’t hide from me.”

Fuck. I can’t let her know about Marcus and the payback plan. He’ll never—

“What is the payback plan?” I demand, my heart pounding and my voice growing with anger. I’m pissed at this guy. I don’t know why, but I am. Just watching his stupid, cocky face cringe in fear makes my blood boil. “Come on, you wanted to be some big and bad vamp, right? But you’re just sitting there pissing your pants now.”

I get out of my chair, staring him in the eyes. “Well?” I grab him by the collar of his shirt, twisting it so that it’s tight around his neck. “Tell me!”

“Calm down, Eve!” Joe says, grabbing my shoulder and whispering in my ear. “You’re on camera.”

I pull back, realizing I’m becoming unhinged. Maybe coming here wasn’t a good idea, especially after hearing the recording. “He’s lying to us.”

“How do you know that?” Joe asks, looking at me. “How do you know this about this guy?”

“I know because—” I start before stopping. Cody can hear us, his eyes darting back and forth between us, and suddenly, I hear him SCREAMING in my mind.

GAH!

“Stop it!” I scream as my headache threatens to burst through my eyeballs. “Stop it!”

Joe looks scared. “Eve, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

He’s trying to figure out what’s going on, but there’s nothing for him to see. It’s all inside me. Cody keeps screaming at me in his head, and the pressure keeps building. I can’t stop it. Suddenly, all the pain transforms, turning into a ball that I turn back on him, staring in his eyes again. “NO!”

Cody stops screaming in his mind and starts screaming with his mouth, his eyes bulging more and more until he claws at his cheeks, his fingers digging into his eyeballs. His eyes pop, and before two heartbeats can pass, his head explodes, splattering the two of us with blood.