I can’t believe you’re doing this, I think as I adjust my short skirt and make sure that not too much of my ass is hanging out the back. I mean, going undercover is part of the job, hon, but this . . . even for a detective, you’re nuts.

I don’t have a reply to my inner voice except to say that it’s the only plan my partner and I could think of. Ever since the rumors came out of Old Haven that vamps have been trafficking in live humans, the regular cops have been trying to crack the case to no avail. That’s when they turned to the 54th Investigative Precinct, sometimes called the Para Justice Squad. Some of the cops keep calling us the Para Justice League . . . but I just can’t. Reality is too scary to joke about now.

It used to be different, when I was a little kid. Back in those days, words like ‘vampire’ and ‘werewolf’ were just the fodder for scary movies or bedtime stories, not reality. All that changed, of course, when I was still in elementary school and the bloodsuckers tried to take over New Zealand, figuring an island of their own was past due.

For a few years there, we were on the ropes, and it looked like humanity might lose. The vamps brought out the shifters, each side hating the other while we tried to figure out what the fuck was going on. They were able to replenish their ranks quickly too, turning so many of their victims that it became heartbreaking to even hunt them because you never knew whether you were going to find your best friend with fangs.

Eventually, we started to adapt and found that some of those old superstitions weren’t fantasies. Crosses might not do shit to a vamp, but light, specifically ultraviolet light? Hell, yes. Silver is effective against both species, and it was easy to turn a regular rifle into an effective weapon.

It took another six months for the militaries of the world to replace their high explosives with silver and UV, and steel bayonets were replaced by white elm stakes, which seem to be the most effective against vamps and shifters.

Of course, not all Paras want to kill and wreck shit. A lot of them just wanted to be left alone in Seattle or Munich or Haven. Humanity still didn’t trust the Paras, but too much blood had been lost for us to continue the fight for now. So, treaties were made and the Para Laws passed.

Such as the one I’m investigating. Drinking blood from a human with or without consent has been outlawed, and if found to be guilty, punishment is severe. Regular jail is just the start. Vampires can be sealed for years in steel coffins, sometimes even killed. We don’t need any new vamps running around, ready to sink their teeth into fresh necks.

“Eve? Yo, Earth to Eve. You paying attention?” my partner, Detective Joseph Gonzalez, asks. He and I have been partners for three years now, and he’s pulled my tookus from the fire a few times. “The Red King, my work last night, all that? You awake today?”

“Yeah,” I reply, shaking my head. “Just remembering what it took for you to get that name last night.”

Joe, who’d spent three hours last night trolling hookers as he looked for ‘special action,’ nods. “All that working up, with no payoff except a club name. I’m not saying I would have done them, but damn it all, it gets to you.”

“Note to self—Joe Gonzalez gets turned on by blast hos,” I tease. “At least I know what to get you for your birthday.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. What you can really get me is a few days of peace and quiet. Just a week without a major vamp problem—would that be too much to ask?”

Joe’s right. For most of the past year, the vamps have followed the rules, getting their blood from the banks set up throughout Old Haven. It was one of the settlements from the Para Wars. We supply them from volunteer blood drives, and they agree not to feed on the living anymore.

Then one of the local notable vamps had to go and try to cross the New Haven Bridge, the control point between Old and New Haven. He killed a border guard, and his public execution was the match that ignited the unrest. Human bodies started to show up all over the place in Old Haven. At first, it was thought that maybe a few bold vampires were taking revenge on the humans for the death of one of their own.

The problem was, these bodies were devoid of bites, which made it harder to pin the crime on a vampire ring. Some of my peers think they’ve found a way to cover their tracks.

I think something far more sinister is at work, but I don’t know what.

It’s my job to find out what it is. But offering myself up for a blood buffet is probably not the best way. “Yeah, well, it was your turn last night, my turn tonight. So, what do you say?”

I sigh and stand up from my desk, knowing that Oppenheimer, whose desk is behind mine, is probably getting an eyeful of my ass. Hope he enjoys it. It’s one of the reasons I like working with Joe. He at least acts professional and never harasses me personally.

“Fine, let’s get going. So nice of the captain to hang around to make sure we’re safely out of the nest.”

Joe snickers and grabs his jacket. “You got beef with the captain?”

“Me, beef?” I ask innocently. “Now why would you think that? He treats me with the utmost respect,” I reply sarcastically.

“You know, Joe, when you said you didn’t want to go in against a club full of vamps, I didn’t think you meant this. This is a terrible idea!” I bitch as I try to fix my dress again. Seriously, why can’t nightclubs do something . . . fitting? I pat my left thigh where my concealed UV laser is pressed against it in a narrow holster. “Don’t I look stupid trying to be a wannabe Lara Croft?”

Joe chuckles. “Nah, Croft always wore red lipstick, not black. We’ll fit right in.”

I smirk. Joe’s right. Besides, I do look sexy. While my golden blonde hair isn’t quite the definition of goth, which is The Red King’s client base, my pale skin and gravity-defying boobs certainly help. My eyes glimmer with the gold flecks that I’ve always had, and while this little orphan doesn’t know a thing about her parents, I’m at least glad I got something worthwhile from the fuckers.

“You ready?” Joe asks as he adjusts his black tie. I don’t know why he insists on a tie even tonight, but it doesn’t even stand out on him. Black suit, black shirt, black tie . . . with his slicked-back dark hair, handsome face, and broad-shouldered muscularity, he could pass for a vamp himself except that his skin’s too dusky. “It’s a Para night.”

I glance out the window of the old house we’re using as our operations base, nodding. It is a Para night. The moon’s out, high and pregnant in the sky. Even the shifters will be out in full form. “Let’s take care of business. Still don’t like this plan.”

Joe shrugs. “What better way to catch a fox in the act than to offer him the chicken?”

“Except this chicken doesn’t want to become dinner,” I growl, heading for the door. “And you’d better not be talking about my legs, either.”

“Why are you worried, anyway?” Joe asks. “I’ll be trailing you, ready to disintegrate.”

“Easy for you to say,” I mutter as we walk toward the door of The Red King. “You’re not the one being offered up as a meal.”

A chill goes down my spine as I touch the door handle for the club, and I even hear a wolf howl in the distance. Joe’s going to give me three minutes, then follow me in so we look like we’re not together. “Go time.”

I’d been doing this for five years and still haven’t gotten used to the things I’m willing to do just to catch the bad guys. When the 54th was started, it was a handshake organization between the then Haven Police and the DHS, who was tasked with handling the ‘Para Outbreak’, as they called it then. Once the treaties were signed, the 54th became its own precinct, although we’re more like a SWAT team combined with an investigative unit. My job title is detective, but that’s mostly for show.

Regular cops just can’t handle what we do. Oh, they carry their sidearms, and each regular car has both a UV laser and a silver scattergun in the dash, but they’re busy enough handling New Haven. We’re the ones armed and trained to handle Old Haven street traffic.

It’s a hard job for them and us. The New Haven cops must deal with human vigilantes and ‘stakers’ who just want to live in the world without the Paranormals because life was so much easier and simpler before.

I would love for any of them to come down here and try to explain to a shifter woman who didn’t choose her life but is now cursed with new instincts that her also innocent husband was found strung up from a lamppost for the morning sunrise to force him to turn before the rope slowly strangled him to death. I wonder if they’d be so tough then.

Entering The Red King, I take a moment to let my eyes adjust. There’s a lot of low lights, most in the infrared range of the spectrum, mostly reds that probably hide the general cheapness of the club. Then again, this is Old Haven. Almost nothing is in good condition. The music is bass-heavy, thumping and making the dust fall from the ceiling supports at times, but nobody really seems to notice. It’s a vamp club, all right.

I see one of the locals that I’ve been keeping my eye on. Nathaniel ‘Blood Boy’ Poliquin is one of the higher-ranked vamps in the local underground scene, but he hasn’t been registering his blood draws for quite a while now . . . and vamps as young as him can’t survive that long without getting some fresh hemo.

“Hey, Blood Boy,” I say as I saddle up to the bar, making sure he can see the pulse in my neck, “you look like you need a snack.”

“Flap off, normie,” he says, turning away. He’s drinking a Clamato shooter . . . disgusting, but that’s just my opinion. “Don’t need no off-market hemo.”

“You sure?” I ask, running my hand up his thigh. “Come on, you ever been with a warm girl before? Twenty bucks, you get to fill and drain at the same time.”

I know I’m pushing it, and I hope Joe’s got my back. This close to an actual vamp, even my training won’t be good for much. Blood Boy looks me over, licking his lips before shaking his head, not taking the bait. “I’ll pass.”

He slams his shot glass down, muttering to himself about crazy humans as he walks away.

I resist the urge to go after him. He’s not harmless, but for the moment, he’s at least not interested in breaking the law in public. Still, Joe’s voice whispers in my transponder. “Keep on him. He’s going down to the dance floor. Maybe he’s one of those sub-terra types.”

I head downstairs, and just as my target disappears into the crowd of undulating bodies, a blinding headache hits me between the eyes. I stagger, wincing as it feels like the music just got multiplied by about a hundred and everyone’s talking to me at once. “Fuck!”

“You okay?”

I gasp and try to follow, but it’s overwhelming. “Just a moment. Cover the back. I need a moment.”

I find the bathroom. I know I’ve got some Tylenol in my purse, but the faucets are broken. I hate dry swallowing them, so I head back to the bar, where the bartender looks at me without any sympathy. “Whatcha need?”

“Water?” I ask. “Fucking head’s splitting.”

“No water,” the bartender says, making me raise an eyebrow. No water? Uhm, health code violation? But I don’t have time for that.

“Fine . . . anything wet will do,” I reply. A moment later, the bartender sets a Clamato shooter in front of me, and I wince as I swallow. The flavor’s too salty for just Clamato, and I silently hope I didn’t just do what I think I did.

Still, after a few minutes, the headache goes away and I head downstairs, looking for my target. The music’s still pounding, and I work my way between gaps on the floor, the stench of human sweat with vamp ‘mones a heady, almost sexual mix.

I get it, why some humans are drawn to them. There is a sexual attraction to their ‘mones, one of their adaptations for hunting. The old mythology of their looking uniformly beautiful or attractive is bullshit, but vamp ‘mones are like level-100 beer goggles. Anything looks good under their effect.

Finally, I spot Blood Boy slipping out the back, and my instincts kick in. I follow, using a change in music to slip through just as he heads down the alleyway. “Hey, Blood Boy!”

He says nothing, and I hurry after him, walking as fast as I can in the high heels I’m wearing.

Just as I turn the corner, I feel someone grab me from behind in an iron-hard grip, and I curse. Blood Boy was waiting for me. I kick back, curling my leg up, but my foot just thumps off his balls.

“Too bad . . . lost those nerves last week,” he rasps in my ear, and I curse inside. Of course. Once they pass a certain age, vamps can control their autonomic nervous systems like I can control my fingers.

But even with all their extra strength, vamps are subject to the laws of physics, and when I stomp back into his knee, it hyperextends, allowing me to flip his body forward and off my back.

He’s fast, back on his feet and slapping my hand before I can draw my UV and sending me rolling to the ground.

Where the fuck is Joe? I think as I scramble. He’s supposed to have my back!

“Been a long time since someone, even a Hemobag like you, just offered herself so stupidly,” Blood Boy says, his voice chilly and sending real fear creeping into me. “Should have figured you were Fi-Fo. Regular cops ain’t that stupid.”

“What the fuck’s a Fi-Fo?” I lie, and Blood Boy laughs.

“Right. Know my name, bad offer like that, and you got a piece? Shoulda kept your nose where it belonged, Blondie. Ah, well. At least you will satisfy my hunger for a week or so.”

He dives in for the kill, and I know my life’s got only a second left, not even enough time to say goodbye to those I’m leaving behind . . . when suddenly, Blood Boy disintegrates.

Rolling up, I get to my feet and retrieve my weapon, turning. “Joe, you have an innate ability to—”

My words stop as it’s not Joe who saved me, but four hunks, three blonds and one with sooty black hair. They’re wearing strange-looking pants, showing off chiseled upper bodies, but what immediately draws my attention are their eyes. All of them are like mine, with golden flecks in them . . . something I’ve never seen before. All of them are armed, one of them holding a bow.

“Come with us, for your own safety,” one of them says. He’s holding a sword and glances at it before sheathing the blade across his back. “Please.”