3

Ophelia - Present Day

My feet pound on concrete in a familiar refrain.

Faster. Harder. Better.

Lungs burning, muscles aching, I push myself to the limit in this last quarter mile. My blood sings with the challenge of it, the need to beat my own best time, to be just a little bit more than I was yesterday.

It's a familiar feeling, a drive that's kept me moving forward these last few years.

One foot in front of the other. Forward, always forward, on to the next.

The end of my run is in sight now, and I push myself to the edge of those limits. Flying, fearless, like I might leave the ground behind entirely as I reach a small mid-century rambler on a quiet tree-lined street and come to a trembling, victorious stop in the driveway.

Hands braced on my knees, I savor the drag of breath in and out of my lungs. Burning, vivid, alive, it reminds me everything I'm capable of.

I steady myself with a hand on the exterior wall of my sister's house and stretch my quads, my hips, my back, take a few pacing laps from the driveway to the walk-out patio to cool myself down.

"Is that you, Lia?" Cleo calls from inside.

"Yeah," I call back. "I'll be right in."

Stretching my arms over my head, I walk back to the driveway, where I've had my camper van parked for the last few weeks. I rarely stay so long in one place, but the temptation of indoor plumbing and laundry and the electrical hookup I pay Cleo for has been too good to pass up.

Inside the van, I sift through a few drawers until I find a clean set of clothes and my shower kit. I carry it all inside, the smell of something savory and Italian wafting out from the kitchen and an undeniable sense of home washing over me as soon as I walk through the door.

Stephanie—formerly known as the beautiful redhead Cleo would have followed to any club in Boston, now known as my sister's bloodbound partner and wife—greets me as I walk into the kitchen.

"Good run?" she asks from her seat at the island, glancing up from her laptop.

"It was alright," I tell her with a shrug.

Cleo turns from the stove to face me, brow arched. "That good, huh?"

"I might have PR'ed." I scoot around the island, grabbing a hunk of bruschetta and popping it into my mouth.

Cleo huffs a laugh and Stephanie shoots me a warm smile as I continue on to the guest bathroom to freshen up before dinner.

I know I'll have to stop imposing on their hospitality and get back on the road soon enough, but tonight I'm more than content for a warm shower and a home-cooked meal with my half-vamp sister and her human bloodbound.

The two of them are pretty much ultimate goals for a happy, stable couple, and a shining example of just how much has changed in the last few years to make their relationship possible.

The paranormal and human worlds have always existed more closely than most humans could fathom.

Paranormal folk, walking amongst the mundane. Wearing glamours or in shifted forms, or keeping to tightly knit communities hidden by wards that keep the uninitiated away.

And, of course, there have always been humans who've known.

In secret societies and shadowed underworlds, in mated pairs defying the odds to spend centuries together, humans and the paranormal have always seemed to find a way to each other.

Hell, there's even a coven of witches in upstate New York who've been making deals with demons for centuries, and a haunted house in the Midwest run entirely by paranormals who've been entertaining guests for decades with spells and enchantments meant to keep up the illusion and spectacle.

And those are just a few examples.

All throughout history, paranormal folk have been here. Though they've gone unseen for most of that time, their history is ours, their world is ours, and as bumpy as things might have been to get the Paranormal Acts passed, I'm of the firm belief it's for the better.

Not that everyone would agree with me.

There's still a small, vocal minority who wishes the world would have stayed how it was, who can't get out of their own asses long enough to see how much better things are now.

But sentiments are shifting, and the world is moving forward—humans and paranormals making their way forward together.

Or, in my own family's case, making their way into the light and the freedom to be who they are.

Cleo and I share a mom, but while my father is down in Texas with the family he made for himself after things didn't work out with my mom, Cleo's dad, Samuel, and mom are still going strong.

They almost didn't end up that way. Mom met Samuel before she met my father and had me. And it wasn't until weeks after their brief affair ended that she realized she was pregnant with Cleo. Samuel had left without a trace, convinced he was doing her a favor by keeping her out of the paranormal world he inhabited.

Mom knew he was a vampire, and knew how fiercely she had to protect Cleo. And even after her similarly disastrous relationship with my dad, she never gave up hope of reconnecting with Samuel.

Samuel got wind my mom was looking for him through some of the paranormal connections she forged in her determination to understand and support Cleo better. When he came back, found out he had a daughter and a no-nonsense, take-no-shit woman waiting to hold his feet to the fire and demand he step up for Cleo, he came to his senses.

Samuel and my mom made their bloodbond a few years later when I was six and Cleo was eight, and I've considered him my dad ever since.

And Cleo's always been my sister, my closest friend.

Even if, as the years pass, the differences between us and the diverging paths our lives will take become more and more obvious.

My life races forward while theirs settle into the long, steady patterns of vampiric life. I try not to let myself dwell on it too often. I try not to think about growing old while they stay just as they are. It's not their fault, not mine, and it doesn't do any good to think about it when there's nothing I can do to change it.

The thoughts preoccupy me while I take my shower, get changed, and head back out into the kitchen for dinner with Cleo and Steph. I do my best to just be here, in this moment, as I load up with lasagna and freshly baked bread, and enjoy my time with two of them.

Stephanie has been a fixture in Cleo's life these last seven years, and has become the second sister I never knew I needed. Gentle and steady to balance Cleo's tendency to rush headlong into life and steamroll any problem in her way, Steph has grounded my sister and been her unending support through moves from Boston to the west coast, from corporate life to Cleo's current role as Assistant Director at the Paranormal Citizens Relations Bureau.

How far we've all come from our days back in Boston.

But again, I shake off the thoughts and focus on being here, now, present in these moments I have with Cleo and Steph before wherever life will inevitably take me next.

Cleo uncorks a bottle of wine and starts pouring while I dig into the food, knowing that inevitability is coming sooner rather than later when the conversation turns to work.

I'm itching for a new challenge, and Cleo's got a job for me.

"You're coming to the Bureau tomorrow?" Cleo asks as she passes me the bottle. "Blair finally agreed to let me give you this case."

I nod. Cleo's been tight-lipped about the specifics of the case, other than the job's in Boston. Whatever it is, I've got the feeling it's something big, important, with the whole cloak and dagger routine they've got going on.

Private investigation work wasn't something I ever thought I'd get involved in, not until I met a PI in Philly a year after I'd graduated from college. He'd originally tried to pick me up in a seedy little bar I'd taken to frequenting, but by the end of the conversation I had his business card, instead.

I'd been feeling listless, restless, aimless. Armed with a journalism degree and no desire to use it, I'd jumped at the chance to try something new. Something risky to get my blood pumping and shake me out of the freeze I'd been in for months.

And now, five years later, I've never looked back. My name has made it through enough whisper networks and just-this-side-of-legal circles to keep me well-supplied in work.

Too much work, actually. With as lean as I've made my lifestyle—living in the van with no roots and very few fixed responsibilities—I have the luxury of only taking the work that interests me.

At first I'd balked at Cleo's vague offer, with no desire to go anywhere near Boston. But just like back in Philly, I've gotten restless. Whatever broken thing inside me that can never be satisfied with being settled is ready to run. To go, to do, to dare.

Cleo, like she can see at least a glimpse of all that brokenness, frowns where she sits across from me.

"You don't have to. I know it's been a while since you've been back east, and—"

"It's no problem," I assure her. "I'm up for the challenge."

Of course I am. I always am.

Better, faster, stronger. More.

I won't live centuries like my mom and Samuel, like Cleo, but if a finite human life is all I have, I'm going to make the very damn most of it I can.

A blustery, gray Seattle day hangs overhead as I approach the front doors of the Paranormal Citizens Relations Bureau and step inside.

The lobby is a bustle of activity. Humans and paranormals, working together to help forge a better future.

After getting a visitor's badge from the handsome gargoyle manning the reception desk, I take the elevator to the top floor. The doors open into a spacious lobby outside the Director's office, and a familiar forest sprite with mossy green hair and a wide smile greets me as I step out.

"Hey Ruthie," I say, walking up to her desk. "How are you liking the new digs?"

She used to be the friendly face that always greeted me when I stepped into the Bureau, but has been working directly with Ewan Blair as his executive assistant for the last few months.

"The view is definitely more scenic up here," she says with a laugh, then nods toward the closed office door at the side of the room. "And you can head right in, Cleo's already inside."

Thanking her, I step forward and grasp the handle with a deep breath and a roll of my shoulders. Confident, calm, collected, my internal mantra plays on repeat as I step inside.

Cleo sits in front of Blair's desk, and they both rise to greet me as I enter. She gives me a small, restrained smile, fully in the professional mode I've come to know so well since I started contracting with the Bureau. In this room, I'm a paid operative first, Cleo's sister second.

"Director Blair," I say, striding over to his desk and offering him my hand. "Nice to see you again."

He takes it, skin dragon-warm and grip firm. "Likewise. Please, take a seat."

Settling next to Cleo, I do my best to put on the attitude I always like to take with clients. Confident. Capable. Ready for whatever crazy shit they're about to throw at me.

"I hear you've got an assignment for me."

"We're tracking some news out of Boston," Cleo says. "Vampires. A few rogues, apparently, causing trouble in the city."

The fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. "Really? That seems… hard to believe."

Most of the vampires in Boston are organized into covens. Ancient, powerful covens where order is rigid. Even though I was always careful not to ask questions or know too much about it, I know enough to be aware this is… strange. The covens don't draw attention to themselves. Not like this.

"Exactly," Blair says. "It's hard to believe anything like this would happen without the coven leaders' knowledge."

I murmur my agreement.

Blair starts to speak again, but Cleo cuts him off. "What I'm about to say doesn't leave this office."

I nod, a slow trickle of dread seeping into my stomach.

"We have reason to believe it may be a deliberate effort to stir up trouble ahead of the elections this fall," Cleo says.

"What makes you believe that?"

"Some very opaque intel from a few of my contacts back east. One in particular you might still be in touch with."

I can't help my grimace. "Cassandra?"

"Bingo."

My friendship with Cassandra was… unlikely, considering how everything went down with me and Marcus and how quickly he moved on from me to her. But handsome, arrogant vampires aside, we used to run in a lot of the same circles. I knew Cassandra from college, and it was a surprise for both of us to discover our shared connection to the paranormal world of Boston. Me through Cleo, and Cassandra through a demi-fae childhood friend.

Cassandra sought me out after that night on the rooftop, scrambling to apologize. I hadn't wanted to hear it. She'd done nothing wrong, I'd stepped out of that world entirely, and she seemed ready enough to let bygones be bygones. But even if the two of us had been quick to bury the awkwardness of that night, things weren't ever quite the same.

We've marginally stayed in touch through infrequent interaction on social media and even more infrequent texts, but it's been years since I saw her in person.

Though it sounds like that might be about to change.

Blair's golden gaze bounces back and forth between Cleo and I. "Care to elaborate?"

"She's someone I used to be… friendly with. While I was living in Boston during college."

Cleo chuckles. "Someone we used to party with more like."

That, too. Cassandra was always a wicked good time.

"And she's got some sort of connection to the Boston covens?" Blair asks.

"Yes," I say. "With one of the most prominent. I'll start with her and see where I can get with any information about who might be behind this, and why."

The words come out with more confidence than I feel.

Going back to Boston. Talking to Cassandra. Sticking my nose into the covens' business.

This assignment is feeling more and more like a mistake.

But Cleo has an approving gleam in her eye, Blair nods his satisfaction, and I'm left with nothing more than all my gathering dread and a brave face.

"Good. And on that note, we've got another contract operative in Boston I would like you to partner with on this. He should be arriving any—" Blair's words cut off with a knock on his office door, and he stands from his seat. "Come in."

"What an unexpected delight."

That dread turns to ice, off like a shot through my veins.

It's been seven years, but I still know the teasing lilt of that voice.

And when I turn, body rigid, I already know what I'm going to find.

A lithe, powerful build. A head of ice-blond hair styled to careless perfection. A pair of crimson eyes focused solely on me.

"It's been far, far too long, Ophelia," Casimir says. "It's good to see you again."

My practiced facade cracks straight down the middle, and it's like no time has passed at all. I'm right back on that rooftop, feeling about an inch tall under this vampire's gaze.

"You want me to work with him ?" The words don't come out right, my panic and shame twisting them into an accusation I hurl toward my sister.

Cleo knows everything. I told her all of it right after it happened, worried that pissing off one of the most powerful vampires in the city might have blown back on her. It never did, and as far as I'm aware, she's the only other soul who knows what happened. I certainly never told anyone, and it doesn't seem that Casimir did, either.

But who knows? I was out of that life completely and in Philly the following year, so if there were ever any rumors, they didn't reach me.

When I turn my eyes back to Casimir, his gaze is harder now. His smile is sharper, humorless, and I quickly look away.

Blair awkwardly clears his throat. "The two of you know each other already?"

Casimir's chuckle is rich and deep as he recovers and crosses the room with more of that easy, charming command of his firmly back in place. "We're acquainted."

To her credit, Cleo doesn't seem to have any idea what's going on, either, as she glares at Blair. "Thanks for the heads-up on that."

"We only spoke last night," Casimir interjects before Blair can reply.

With no spare seats for him to take, he chooses instead to perch himself on the corner of Blair's desk.

It puts him right in front of me.

He crosses one ankle over the other, folds his arms across his chest, and the slow smile on his face is complemented by the glint of a challenge in his eyes.

"What do you say, Ophelia? It could be fun, the two of us partnering up to take down the bastards who are orchestrating all of this chaos."

I don't know what to make of this Casimir.

I don't know what to make of his challenge and the hard set of his features, don't know what to make of the way his eyes rake over me and the way my heart rate ticks up in response.

I need to get out of here.

I'm twenty-three again, standing on that rooftop at the edge of a life that was never going to be mine, with a vampire handsome as sin and all too able to see through my bullshit. Small. Exposed. Shaky with nerves and the deep-brain instinct to run as far and as fast as I can.

I swallow hard, trying to get a handle on myself.

"Sure, maybe we'll be able to keep in touch while I'm out there, but I work best alone." He opens his mouth to reply, but I press on. "Cleo? Should I speak with the payroll department like usual to get them my info?"

Cleo shoots one last look at Blair before she replies. "Yeah, let me walk you down there."

Shamefully glad to have an excuse to leave, I stand and follow her from the room without a backward glance.

But even so, I swear I feel a crimson gaze following me all the way out the door.