Epilogue - Percy

On your left.

I watch as my wife and life partner circles the ballroom, wearing a skin-tight, floor-length gown with a slit to her thigh. It's the perfect mix of showing everything and showing nothing at all. I watch as she approaches a man sipping champagne, but she doesn't stop, just trailing past him, letting him think it was his idea to come to her.

It works every time. Just like now.

Like a man in a cartoon, floating on the scent of a pie in the window, he turns, following her along the dance floor, grabbing her wrist just before she leaves.

That grab makes my temper flare, but it's all part of the plan. Veronica pretends to look surprised, her hand coming to her mouth. I watch her charm him, and get led to the middle of the dance floor by him.

Everyone else is watching, their eyes focused in on them with rapt attention.

Veronica is dancing with Manhattan's current Elder Supreme. A man with a cut jawline, perfect skin, and more than two hundred years on this earth. We hadn't believed it when we first heard—surely that had to be a mistake. But, no, this was a man who was around for the Industrial Revolution, great depression, and both World Wars, and managed to make it through.

If Veronica can get past him tonight, she'll cement herself as one of the best agents we've ever seen. This man holds the key to unraveling the coven in New York, which is the center of the vampire groups. We only target the ones that prey on innocent humans, and this one, in the center of the glitz and glamor this city has to offer, is known to lure in unsuspecting people—typically college kids and high school seniors—trapping them in "internships" that really just involve giving away their blood.

It's despicable, and many of the interns don't understand that it's happening. It's a clear violation of paranormal policy. And that's why Veronica and I are here together, trying to gather intel we can use to prove that's what they've been doing.

I watch my wife leave the dance floor with a man other than me and do a little fist pump, wheeling away from my spot on the balcony to be sure he doesn't see me. Maisie whipped up some of her scent cover for me, but the last thing we need is someone figuring out that I'm a shifter before we can get out of here with the evidence we need.

Taking my time, I wind through the hallways and the rest of the event space, eventually finding a waiter and taking a champagne flute from him and a small silver key. I take that silver key and head for the elevator, riding all the way to the top floor. I finish off the champagne before the elevator gets to the penthouse.

When it stops, I step inside, setting the champagne flute gently on the table and using the key to unlock the door. When I swing it open, my wife is still in her pretty red dress, but the man—the leader of the Manhattan Coven—is tied to a chair, bound and gagged, his eyes going wide when he sees me walk in.

"Good work, honey," I say, stepping forward and pressing my lips to hers, thinking about the moment later when I'm going to be able to strip this dress off of her.

"Thanks, baby," she says, plucking a thumb drive from her bra and showing it off to me. "Got it all here, plus a few extra pictures, just in case."

The man tied to the chair growls and fights against the binding, but they were hexed by our resident mage, who looks like she's not going anywhere anytime soon, and who has been particularly helpful in our fight against the vampires. It's incredibly hard for them to fight that ancient magic, the kind that was developed specifically to keep them from hurting people. The same magic was used all those centuries ago to keep them from crossing thresholds.

Powerful and ancient, bone-chilling.

And pretty fucking strong, I think, as the vampire tips the chair over and starts squirming on the floor. We watch him for a moment, enjoying it, thinking about all the people he's hurt during his time as leader. To him, humans are nothing more than cattle to use as food, so he deserves to suffer on the floor for a bit.

That is, until the door to the suite bursts open, and we're forced to sprint across the room, directly for the glass door that leads to the balcony beyond. I throw it open for her and slam it shut just as the Elder's goons slam into it. I salute them before turning and diving off of the building, using my grappling hook to swing gracefully and land on the street next to my wife, who is turning heads in more ways than one.

"Do you still have the hard drive?" I ask her, as we take off down the street, toward the waiting car.

"Yes," she says, smiling over at me. "I'm not you, I don't drop things any time we have to do a quick get away."

"That was one time ," I complain, as we come to a stop and dive into the black sedan waiting for us outside the hotel, praying it will blend in with the others enough to get us out of the city without too much scrutiny. "And I'd been eating those little shrimp things all night! They made my fingers greasy."

"Sure, sure," Veronica says. "Just admit that I'm the better agent."

"Oh, that's all you wanted? Sure, of course you are," I say, grabbing her by the hips and pulling her into my lap. As we kiss, the lights of the city pass us by outside, shining into the car and signaling another successful getaway.

"Are we staying in that hotel by the airport?" I ask against her lips.

"The one with the hot tub?" she asks reading my mind.

"Of course," I murmur, and she nods, our noses bumping against one another. I have my hand halfway up her skirt when a phone buzzes, and Veronica pulls away, reaching into her purse to grab it.

"Hi baby!" she says, plopping back into her seat. I immediately lean into the frame to catch sight of my beautiful daughter, Zelie, sitting on Olivia's lap.

"I was just about to put her to bed," Olivia says, "but I guess she really wanted to see Daddy."

"Dada!" Zelie shouts, and my smile splits across my face. I can't help it—any time I look at her, I feel like I've swallowed the sun. I'm convinced I will never need anything more in my life than my two girls to be perfectly happy.

"What about Mommy?" Veronica asks, "Mama? The one who had to carry you for nine months?"

"Eight months," I correct, "you were a bit of a pre-mature birth."

"If that's true," Veronica mutters, "then why did she weigh eight pounds ?"

"I can't tell if you guys are still talking to Zelie," Olivia says, "or talking to each other."

"Zelie," I say, while Veronica says, "myself."

Olivia laughs, then moves the camera away from Zelie, so it's mostly her face that fills the frame. Linnea is so busy with her own kids, and Rosa and Bigby are gone for part of the year, so it was very convenient when Olivia spoke up, saying she could babysit when she wasn't on assignment.

My parents are talking about moving to Rosecreek, which would be wonderful, but until that happens, Olivia is our pretty regular sitter, and Zelie loves her. We chat with Olivia for a while, until Zelie starts to yawn loudly in the background.

"Alright," Olivia says, "I'd better get her to bed. We can't wait to see you all tomorrow!"

"You too," we say in unison, before Olivia ends the call. We come to a stop outside the hotel, each scanning the area before stepping out. When we travel together, it's like each of us has a client, and each of us has a bodyguard.

As we walk through the hotel, I can't stop looking at her and thinking about how lucky I am. Two years ago, I was miserable, spending every night in my apartment, staring at the ceiling, wondering if it was worth going through everything I went through.

Now, my wife and I are heading to the hotel with the hot tub, my daughter is waiting for me at home, and we've just completed another successful mission.

Things haven't been easy for me, and Veronica and I have had our fair share of shit to get through, as friends, lovers, and parents. But at the end of the day, I know she will be right there next to me, climbing into bed, fitting her body to mine, and whispering that she loves me.

*****

THE END