Old Haven. Where hundred-year-old brownstones stand side by side for blocks, their worn, poorly-maintained façades covered with graffiti. Family homes stand next to burned-out, busted-out shells that used to be crackhouses . . . or were just gutted during the Para Wars. The industrial area nearer the river is mostly metal-framed warehouses, with the occasional concrete monstrosity for refrigerated storage. It’s through this district I’m walking now, and the air is cool against my skin, sending goosebumps up and down my arms despite how hellish the night has become.

I must get across the river.

I walk by another wall that’s got a fresh layer of graffiti, the message nearly identical to what I’ve seen around town, the color always the same . . . red.

PARA SCUM DIES! THE TIME ARRIVES! 27:20:10

Tears sting my eyes as I look at the evil, recognizing the last bit. The holy texts have gotten a lot of reinterpretations since the Para Wars.

I used to sympathize. I used to think that people were just trying to draw strength from something they knew in uncertain times. But now . . . now, I understand that strength meant sacrificing. It meant sacrificing the very thing that made us human, our compassion and humanity. We started lumping all Paras together, treating them all like the evil villains they were portrayed to be. I’ll admit that while I know better now, I wasn’t innocent at first. It was easy to get sucked into the fear and propaganda.

I hurry along, making sure my hood stays up. It’s not much, but it’s enough to help me as I get closer to the river. Above New Haven, the sky has a strange, almost greenish tint to it. Never seen that before. I don’t have time to wonder about it, though. I have Alyssa to worry about.

While there’s a chance she’s been snatched up already, the odds are low, at least by the NHPD. Without any reason to suspect her of Paranormal abilities, and her not having any criminal record, they’ll let the bureaucracy work. Besides, she’s more useful to them on the street with a surreptitious tail and letting her unknowingly make herself bait. Those riots, however—that’s a different story.

All my training tells me that this is a bad fucking idea to be doing alone. Criminals get caught because criminals do stupid shit . . . and going to see my sister is totally at the top of that stupid-shit-o-meter. But what else am I going to? I can’t leave her, and I’m sure they know that.

It doesn’t matter. I have to see her, to see that she’s okay and to tell her she was right and that I’m sorry. Also, I have to tell her the truth about what’s happening to me and that I’m going to make sure she’s safe. Alyssa will probably object to my waging a one-woman, possibly four-Fae war on the Old Haven vampires, but she needs to know the threat will pass. That even if I must leave Earth and go to Lunaria and never come back, her big sister is still looking out for her.

The thought makes my chest feel heavy. She’s not going to like it and will probably have a thousand arguments as to why I’m being stupid. I just hope she doesn’t feel like I’m abandoning her . . . but at least with the vampires dealt with, she’ll be safe.

Before I can focus on getting across, gunfire cracks again and I duck into an alley, making myself small behind a dumpster as another truck goes speeding by.

“Paras gonna burn!” someone from the truck yells, and a moment later, a now familiar floomph cuts through the night. Molotov cocktails. Those anti-plastic laws certainly have made sure everyone and their brother has plenty of glass bottles lying around. It’s the fourth I’ve seen tonight, along with the third street battle. By the time the sun rises, I’m afraid of what the body count is going to be on both sides of the fighting.

I get to the bridge, hoping that I won’t have to try and swim across the river. The Haven River’s not much, but it’s cold and I’ve never been a great swimmer. Going by the apartment is even more risky. But I have to try.

I’m in luck. The city government, in a nod to some semblance of humanity, is evacuating the human population of Old Haven in old busses, in an ad-hoc depot with SWAT protecting the perimeter. Guess the mayor is at least aware of what body counts do to poll numbers.

“Human and shifters only. We will be UV scanning,” a bored-sounding cop says as people get lined up. “If you’re a bloodsucker, tough shit.”

“Shouldn’t even let the mutts on,” one of the cops mutters, but nobody calls him on his comment. “Damn heathens causing all the fucking chaos.”

The bus has another slight, a sign that has a human and a crudely-drawn dog, the human sitting in front. “Shifters to the back,” the bus driver says. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

I shake my head, wishing I could do something. It’s no use, however. I can’t call attention to myself. Instead, I take a seat about halfway back, keeping my head low and reviewing the system that will be used on the other side to check IDs. It’ll be pretty standard, if they go by Para Law, but no way am I talking my way past that one.

A moment later, I hear a commotion, my head jerking up as I see a burly man holding a skinny kid by the back of his neck. “Hey, Mutt, didn’t you hear? Get in the back of the bus where you belong!”

There are two rows in front of me, and the kid isn’t moving. “I can sit up here like everyone else.”

“You’re a shifter. The signs says Shifters in Back,” the man says, jerking on the kid’s neck again. “Now, move!”

The boy straightens his shoulders with as much dignity as he can muster and looks his assailant in the eyes. “I’m not moving.”

The nobility and strength in his quiet statement brings tears to my eyes, but a moment later, the man’s lifted the boy bodily, grunting. “Fine. I’ll move you myself then.”

I put a leg out, and the man trips over himself, nearly busting his lip and banging his forehead a good one on the edge of the seat. “Bitch!” he hisses, letting the boy go. “You’d better watch where you’re going!”

“Sorry. Accident,” I reply, tipping the boy a wink and pulling my hood tighter. I know it’s stupid to call attention to myself like this, but something inside me said I couldn’t let this one pass. Not this time.

Thankfully, the angry man decides that a lump on the forehead and a ride across the bridge are more important than stopping the bus with riots going on all around Old Haven. He moves up to the front while I pat the spot next to me. “You can sit next to me.”

The kid sits down and I shake his hand. We don’t say anything as we cross the bridge, pulling up to the offloading point. It’s surrounded by a chain-link fence but isn’t that well-constructed. This isn’t something the government was ready for. “You gonna be okay?” I ask the kid. “Got people over here?”

“Yeah,” he says. “You?”

I give him a wink, nodding. “We’ll see. Gotta make my exit first. Damn if I didn’t leave my ID at home. See you later.”

Thankfully, the guards are busy, and I’m able to jump the fence without being noticed. Moving quickly, I snag one of the ‘Mobobikes’ that dot New Haven, pedaling as fast as I can.

It takes me about twenty minutes to reach my neighborhood, the apartment buildings rising around me. For the hundredth time, I notice the irony that they’re of the same type and construction as the ghettos of Old Haven, but these, at least, have been maintained. Ducking between buildings, I use the alleyways to approach my building.

Sticking my head out of the space between apartment buildings, I hear a crowd in front of the building, along with a van and a reporter.

“Get her! Kill the fairy!” the crowd screams in an almost monotone, enraged chant.

Straining my ears, I can just hear the news reporter essentially repeating what I heard earlier, but then I hear a new piece of information that is like a punch in the gut. “After a night of violence that police are attributing to Paranormal agitators, a crowd has camped outside Detective Eve Carter’s home, demanding that she be put to justice. Police were worried about things getting out of hand, so they went in just moments ago, looking for Alyssa Carter, the detective’s sister, to take her away for her own safety . . . but she was no longer inside. As of this report, no one saw her leave the premises, and she was inside mere hours ago. She is suspected to have gone into hiding, possibly retrieved by her mutant sister.”

Wait, Alyssa’s in hiding? That’s both reassuring and worrying. She might be safer, but I’m not sure where she could be or who she’s with. The reporter continues.

“All of this has fueled the violence that has broken out in Old Haven over this murder, and people are angry with what they call lenient laws toward Paras and are starting to take matters into their own hands.”

One of the mob, hearing the report, interjects. “Yeah, we’re sick of being fed on. Now it’s their turn!”

The crowd roars, and the reporter, smelling ratings, turns the report into an ad-hoc interview. “And Eve Carter?”

“That mutant bitch is on the loose because we were too nice. Well, you know what?” the man asks, his face going red. “Kill her and kill them all!”

The crowd picks up the chant as the reporter makes a cutting motion to her cameraman, but the crowd doesn’t care. They keep chanting, the screams and yelling growing uglier and uglier with each iteration. The chants fuel the anger inside me. These people, some of whom I recognize from the neighborhood stores, who would shake hands with me and smile, cheer me for my work . . . are now calling for my blood.

They don’t care that I didn’t know or that I didn’t mean to cause any harm. They don’t understand that I want to do everything I can, including putting my life at risk, to save this city from myself and from others.

Whatever. I melt into shadows, knowing what I need. Alyssa isn’t here, and the government is looking for her. Looking for us both, really, probably banking that if they find her, they’ll find me.

I jog down the alley, turning and making my way along the backs of the buildings. I wish I could get inside, see what she took with her, get a clue. More importantly, under my bed is my private strongbox, the weapons I started stashing just in case.

“No way of getting those now,” I whisper as I head toward the bus stop. Besides, I have a feeling that if someone does corner me, I’ve got a chance with my new powers and all.

I see a pay phone, one of the few left. I hate using it, but I have to. I’ll just have to haul ass as soon as I hang up. It’s probably being monitored.

I call Alyssa’s phone, but it’s just the answering machine. “Hi, this is Alyssa Carter. Leave a message so it doesn’t get stuck in your head.”

It beeps and I hang up. It’s an obvious coded message for me. She’s the metalhead from birth, a product of Dad taking her jogging with his music playing. And one of Dad’s favorite songs was Zombie, famous by the Cranberries, but Dad’s version was a cover sang by Bad Wolves.

I told her to stay away from her wolf boyfriend. With these vigilantes on the loose, I wish she had someone else to turn to, but when that crowd started getting rowdy outside, she must have contacted Zack.

Skipping the bus, I use some skills I picked up on the streets to steal a car, heading for the outskirts of New Haven. In the forests to the west of town, there are places where shifters gather, especially the Alphas. And while I don’t know if her boyfriend has a house in the hills, I know for damn sure that he’s not sticking around the city on a night like this. He'd better not be. Not if my sister is with him.

I can see skirmishes between packs of shifters and vigilantes as I drive, but I put my head down and gun it each time, knowing I can’t do anything. Reaching the hilly area known as Wolf Town, I slow, checking the areas where I know packs have their meetings, wishing I knew which pack Alyssa’s boyfriend belongs to.

Instead, I focus on my feelings. If I can have a link with my guardians, I should have something with my sister, right? Even if we don’t share the same blood, our bond is strong. I turn myself over to my instincts, steering and taking back roads as I feel the need.

Finally, just as dawn pales the sky, I see her. She’s being held, tied up by a group of eight vigilantes outside a barn that is clearly a Shifter pack house. Stopping the car, I slip out, trying to listen as I get as close as I safely can.

My hands shake with rage as I see Alyssa. She looks like she’s been put through hell, a large welt on her cheek and blood trickling from one side of her mouth. Her eyes are puffy, and I suspect that she’s been smacked around mercilessly by the men who are surrounding her now.

“Call to them, bitch!” the one man says, an AK-47 nestled loosely in his hands. “Tell your mutt to come out.”

“Fuck you,” Alyssa says, always the fighter. Her response earns a backhanded slap from the nearest vigilante, however, sending her sprawling into the dirt.

Is this what we’ve become? I’ve spent all these years fighting for humanity, when men like this act so inhumane that I can’t even be sure they’re the same species as me.

I want to run in there, to charge in like Sir Lancelot, but without a gun, it’d look more like the Charge of the Light Brigade. I glance around, looking for a better strike position as the vigilantes yank Alyssa’s hair, humiliating her and calling her vile names in an attempt to draw the Shifters inside the barn out.

Darkness settles over me, and I think of all the things I’d like to do to these men, but then I see something that breaks my heart. It’s Alyssa, and instead of crying any longer, she’s smiling at them, as if she’s ready for her fate.

“Don’t come out,” she says, loud enough for me to hear her. “I love you, Zack. Don’t come out.”

Her words stun the entire crowd, and they shift around with uncertainty until one of them spits in the dirt. “Enough of this shit!”

Yanking an old-fashioned revolver out of the waistband of his jeans, he grabs Alyssa, forcing her on her knees. “Roy, cover her.”

I watch as the man with the revolver empties his gun, putting two rounds back into the chamber. “No…”

The man spins the chamber, flipping it closed and pointing it at Alyssa’s head. “Let’s have a game. You and the rest of your litter come out, or I squeeze the trigger. Let’s see how long you’re willing to gamble.”

He squeezes the trigger once before anyone can react, before I can react. Just as I’m about to jump up and charge at them, the barn opens, and a young man comes out. He’s shirtless and barefoot, his jeans hanging in strips and rags around his hips from the hell he’s been through tonight. “Here. Here I am! Let her go!”

Alyssa fights at her captor, but she can’t do anything, his boot firmly on the back of her knee and his left hand entwined tightly in her hair. Rage courses through me, but I have to keep my head. I back up, getting ready to use the car as a battering ram and distraction when a wolf song splits the air. A giant wolf leaps over the boy, aimed at the vigilantes, a snarl lifting its lip.

It’s suicide… but it gets the gun away from Alyssa’s head. Now’s my chance. I rush forward, praying I can get a Faelight created on the run.

Faerie powers, don’t fail me now.