“Hey, you okay?”

Alyssa yawns, looking up when I come into the kitchen. “Yeah . . . listen, about—”

“I’m sorry.”

Alyssa stops, blinking. “What?”

I sigh and pop my backup pistol out of the safe to put it in my holster. “Last night, I was pissed, covered in gunk, and just . . . it wasn’t a good day. You had some valid points.”

“Thank you,” Alyssa replies, nodding. “I should apologize too. I know that you’re not some jackbooted thug. You’re trying to do the right thing.”

“And so are you. Alyssa, I know you sympathize with the Paranormal cause. And in some ways, I wish it was like the old days when we were kids. The Paras policed themselves because they didn’t want to be known. Then . . . well, it happened. But I should take your feelings into account too. You keep me balanced.”

I want to tell her more, that I know her secret . . . but we don’t have time, and that minefield is one I think will be better if she can invite me in first. If possible, at least.

“I just . . .” Alyssa says, then sighs. “I remember what it was like after Mom and Dad finally got to legally adopt you, when you started to relax. You were happy. And after they died and it was just the two of us, you tried to stay happy still, at least for me. But since you joined the Para Squad, you’ve stopped smiling most of the time. I want that sister back.”

I nod, touched. We might not be blood, but we’re closer than that in a lot of ways.“ I know. It’s hard, just because of the hours. Thank God you’re in Junior College now. It was hard trying to take you to high school on two hours of sleep. But hey, I’ve got a weekend off starting tomorrow. How about we go hang? We can even go to the Cabana Room if you want.”

Alyssa fidgets, then shakes her head. “I’d love to, Eve, but I’m gonna have to pass. Just . . . stuff.”

What the hell? The Cabana Room is the place that Alyssa bugged me for months to try and look the other way so she could use her fake ID to get in. We celebrated her twenty-first there, and it’s been our place since then. “What sort of stuff?”

God, I hope she doesn’t figure out about Zack. Maybe I should change our plans?

It’s the same buzzing feeling as my headaches, but this time, it’s different, and I remember what the four guys said last night. “What about Zack?”

Alyssa nearly drops the fork she’s using to scoop up some TVP nuggets, her face going white. “Zack? I don’t know anyone named Zack.”

I know she is lying, I mean, I know who Zack is . . . but I’m shocked. I heard her say it as clear as day . . . I thought. Oh, hell, Cole was right. Wait, did I just read Alyssa’s thoughts? “Really?”

“Yeah . . . why do you ask?” Alyssa says, and I can hear it for sure. She’s lying her ass off, and not all that well.

I’m tempted to call her on it but I decide now’s not the time. I still don’t know what the fuck’s happening to me, and I don’t need to be chasing down my baby sister if she wants to have an undercover boyfriend. Still . . . I’ll keep an eye out. “Oh, nothing. I just thought you said something about meeting someone and the name Zack was on the tip of my tongue.”

“I didn’t. I mean, I haven’t,” Alyssa says. “Just busy, that’s all.”

An awkward silence drops between us as we finish eating our late breakfast and I take Alyssa to New Haven Junior College. We’re most of the way there when the traffic slows to a crawl, then a stop. Seeing a passing traffic cop, I flag him down. “What’s the hold up?”

“The assholes won their court case and are marchin’,” the cop says, his eyes cutting to my piece then my badge. “You wanna help?”

“Sorry, gotta drop off my sister. What court case?”

The cop shakes his head. “The Street Sweepers.”

Street Sweepers. I don’t know which is a bigger threat to me on duty, the Paras like Blood Boy or the Street Sweepers. A ‘citizen’s awareness society’ that was born out of the terror of the Para Wars, what started as a neighborhood watch has morphed into something I don’t think anyone anticipated . . . they’re just pure hate. I call them vigilantes.

I look up the street and I can see them in their blue shirts and black pants, marching on one side of the street, their ‘shields’ covered with hateful slogans about Paranormals. On the other side, counter-protestors who are smaller and less-organized but no less vocal, hurl insults back, and I’d bet within a few minutes, they might be hurling more.

“Street Sweepers . . . fuckin’ can’t stand them,” Alyssa mutters, and I can’t disagree with her. “Want to take away the Paras’ right to survive. What was the case?”

I back my car up, popping the red light on my roof as I drive down the sidewalk for fifty feet before hanging a right to get clear of the area. “Three Sweepers were busted making plans for a bombing in Old Haven, a shifter apartment building. They got off on a defense that you can’t arrest people for conspiracy to commit murder since Paras aren’t human.”

Truth is, I’d lost track of the case. The Sweepers are headquartered in New Haven and were taken down by regular cops. Other than the unique defense, I’ve had my plate full. Still, their defense disgusts me, and I expect Alyssa to rant for the rest of our trip, but instead, she’s quiet all the way to school. I wonder if she’s freaked out, sad, or just wondering what the hell’s going on with me . . . or maybe she’s just thinking about Zack.

After dropping Alyssa off, I report to the 54th, getting there just as the clock strikes noon. Joe’s already in, chatting with one of the lab techs when I sling my bag down. “Sorry I’m late. Don’t ask.”

“Yeah, well, Captain said he wanted to see us as soon as you got in,” Joe says. He’s looking rather chipper, and I wonder how he does it. I get four hours of sleep and feel like something the cat dragged in. Joe beats me to work but somehow looks like he’s ready to run the damn Ninja Warrior course.

“Oh, shit,” I mutter. “Last night?”

“Most likely,” Joe says, leading the way as we go into the captain’s office.

Donald Shaughnessy, universally known as The Captain, has been with the NHPD since it was just the Haven Police Department and hasn’t been on the streets in over a decade. He’s got a bad temper and not enough hours in the gym downstairs to let it out. “Sit down, both of you.”

“Captain, if this is about—” I start, but the captain slams a paper on his desk, shutting me up.

“Two more dead! Last night! You two said you were on the cusp of shutting this shit down and now we have two more women dead, stuffed so full of drugs that even a blast addict could’ve gotten high off their sweat.”

Shit. Two more? No wonder the captain’s already ballistic. City Hall’s probably chewed his ass twice over already. Unfortunately, my being late probably means I’ve missed his warmups, where he asks leading questions and shows he’s at least listening. Nope, I get him in full-on Fukushima mode, where it’s scream first, make sense of it later. “Where did this—”

The captain’s not finished. “Do you two fuckwits know this town is sitting on a stick of dynamite ready to blow? If we don’t put a stop to this, there will be all-out war! Now with the Sweeper mess, we’re going to have full-on squad battles in the streets! Now tell me what happened with the leeches. You get a lead before Blood Boy got himself vaporized?”

I sigh, shaking my head. “No . . . just the club. I’ve got another lead, a guy named Reynaldo. Vamp from the South Side.”

The captain snorts. “And you?”

Joe shrugs, spreading his hands. “Not much. I mean, I could find the succubus who tried to get with me last night, but—”

“Cut the shit, Joe. There’s no such thing as succubi,” the captain says in disgust. “I’m starting to think you both are incompetent and I need to put someone else on this case. Especially with the mayor preparing to give us a big public rub and tug for all the previous cases we’ve closed.”

“Captain, come on!” I protest. The mayor has the worst timing sometimes, although I understand why he’s doing it. Gotta keep the citizens of New Haven feeling safe, even if the award is mostly bullshit. “We can do it.”

The captain shakes his head, snorting. “Yeah, I’m sure. Face it, you’re too soft, Carter. A woman has no place in this line of work. And considering your past and your family situation, you’re even more conflicted.”

Anger swells in me, and I’m about to ask him what that means when the voices start in my head again. A voice that sounds very much like the captain’s whispers, saying even more terrible things about me. It’s pretty caveman, all about how I’m too pretty to be working in this line of work and how I’m just a quota hire to avoid a lawsuit against the department. About the only thing a cunt like her is good for is fucking.

Fuck you. How about you say thanks every once in a while when I bust my ass and pad your fucking arrest docket and make the precinct look efficient, you asshole? The whole reason the Mayor’s going to kiss your ass is because of my work! I yell back in my mind at the voice, pretending I’m yelling them at the captain.

The captain stops, shocked like I just slapped him in the face, and turns to me. Joe, who’s been listening to the captain rant, looks at us in confusion. “Uh . . . what just happened?”

Great . . . you start thinking you can hear thoughts, and now you think you can send them too. Regular fucking text message service in your brain. Aren’t you convenient?

Before the captain can say anything, another raging headache hits. My head feels like it’s about to explode, and my hands squeeze the sides of my chair, the wood feeling like it’s getting warm as something wants to crawl out of my skin.

“Do you have something you want to say to me, Carter?” the captain rasps, his face redder than normal with rage.

“You’re a real—” I start, giving zero fucks, but before I can continue, the ground shakes and half of the captain’s awards fall off the wall, a mountain of paperwork on his desk tumbling halfway across the room.

The outburst shocks everyone in the room and even the captain’s a little shaken. “Must’ve been an earthquake,” Joe says, putting a steadying hand on my shoulder. “Captain, I think we should get going on the day, right?”

The captain nods, still looking shocked. “Two weeks. You don’t have people in cuffs in two weeks, I’m yanking you two back to bridge duty. I will not have the mayor looking like an idiot when he’s pinning an award on my chest, got it?”

“Got it.”

The captain picks up his papers, his voice still shaky. “You’d better, or else we’ll have hellfire on our hands.”

Out in the squad room, Joe and I get to work, but I’m worried. That felt like a lot more than just a conveniently timed tremor. No, it felt like it had to do with me.

That can’t be though. Maybe it’s just the stress. Maybe I’m needing some time off after this case . . . but I just hope I’m not going crazy.

“Hey, shake it off,” Joe says, grabbing his jacket. “Lunch is on me today, and we can hit the streets after that. Good way to finish off the week, right?”

“Yeah . . .” I reply, grabbing my own jacket. “Good start.”

Let’s just hope I don’t end next week in a psych ward.

The fried chicken’s surprisingly good, and I nod gratefully when Joe sets a plate in front of me. “Hey, don’t worry about Cappy,” he says, sitting down and drinking some tea. “He’s a jerk, but he’s always been that way.”

“Still . . . might as well have said I should be spending my days barefoot and pregnant. I should—”

“Chill there, Eve. I mean, it’s good to stand up to him some, but calling him an asshole like you were about to . . . that might be pushing the line too much.”

“He deserves it.”

“No doubt, but you deserve to have a job too.”

“Yeah, well, if I had a cock, the captain wouldn’t be pushing my buttons so much,” I reply, taking a bit of chicken. It’s good, but I’m still shaken at what happened in there. Am I really going crazy? Or is something really manifesting itself around me?

I remember the warning from the four . . . whatever they were. Whatever they pulled last night, it’s nothing Paranormal that I’m familiar with.

Joe checks his phone and grins. “Got another lead. The old Broadmoor place out near the east side of Old Haven. My informant says there’s a nest there, two or three vamps doing what he called ‘processing.’ I’m thinking of heading over.”

“No,” I reply, wiping my mouth. “You know the street gangs in the area better than I do. They’ll have info we can work with. I’ll chase this lead down.”

“You sure? There could be three of them.”

I nod, chuckling. Joe’s right. NHPD policy is we stay together, but the 54th doesn’t always follow procedure. And with a two-week deadline, we need to push it a little. “I’m sure. I’ve got some bad feelings to work off, and it’s probably a bust anyway. I could use an hour of peace and quiet. Besides, sun’s still out.”

It’s true. I can use the peace and quiet. My biggest headaches have been when I’m in crowds, and the old Broadmoor mansion is way the fuck up in the Old Haven Heights area . . . not even Old Havenites live there anymore. Which is why this is probably a wild goose chase. Vamps don’t like places so close to the woods. It lets the shifters get too close too easily.

“Okay,” Joe says after a moment. “But you keep your damn radio hot, you got me?”

I nod, touched. “No problem, Joe. I know you’re my guardian angel, even if you are late as hell sometimes.”

Joe grimaces. “With the shit we deal with . . . I’m not sure angels exist. Just watch your ass.”