“Well, that was a bust,” complained Smirk around a bite of shawarma. “I know it would’ve been crazy to nail ‘im on our first shot, but I was definitely expecting to find more than a pixie daycare and a bike shop.”

Charles raised an eyebrow and snorted. “Yeah, you definitely seem broken up about it.”

“I was hungry!” said Samuel. “If we weren’t gonna get the rotter, we might as well get lunch while we’re here. I don’t make it down to Faeclectic every day, and I’m tired of freezer meals.”

“It’s ‘o eight hundred,” said Charles flatly. “Also, whose fault is that?”

“Yours!” retorted Samuel. “I never learned to cook because you and Millie keep feeding me homemade meals once a week. I never got desperate enough to figure it out on my own. You’ve crippled me, Chuck. You and your wife. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “That’ll teach me to be generous,” he snorted.

“I should hope so,” replied Samuel sagely. “It’s a bad look.”

“But you’re still coming over tomorrow night? Even though it’s a bad look that’s stunted your growth and turned you into an eternal man-child?”

“Of course I am. I’m bad at cooking, but I’m not an idiot.”

“You sure about that?” laughed Charles. “Because the tahini sauce on your cheek would beg to differ.” Samuel grumbled under his breath and grabbed the crumpled up napkin that Charles tossed at him, scrubbing at his cheek. “Come on,” Charles continued. “Chief is gonna want an update, and I’d rather give it to her after she eats.”

Samuel smirked. “What? Don’t fancy being a wolf’s dessert?”

“No,” said Charles shortly. “Surprisingly, I’d rather live to see another day.”

***

“That’ll be seventy-six dollars and forty-three cents,” said the teenage cashier, smiling tightly as Amelia brandished her debit card.

The boy’s throat bobbed uncomfortably as he swallowed. Pretending she hadn’t noticed, Amelia tapped her card against the reader, then typed her PIN number into the squishy gray keys — 1, 2, 1, 1. The day of her first date with Charles, which made it easy to remember. They’d eaten tacos and taken a sunset walk around the Faewick Gardens. At the gazebo, he’d given her a palm-sized book of Sovra’anian legends and stolen a rather lengthy kiss.

That day was one of her favorite stories.

The young cashier shuffled awkwardly while they waited for the transaction to be approved, then he handed her a receipt and winced when their fingers brushed. Amelia ran significantly hotter than humans, but not hot enough to burn. Charles, who had magic but was decidedly human, wouldn’t have survived otherwise. She raised one eyebrow. Clearly, this boy didn’t have much experience with supernaturals. A new resident of Valehaven, perhaps?

Supernaturals had come out into the open over fifty years ago, so nearly three times this kid’s entire lifespan. But if someone was new to a fae sanctuary city like Valehaven, then creatures like vampires, wizards, and shifters suddenly went from abstract textbook stuff to being the very real lady with hot hands and glowy eyes at the grocery store. It had to be jarring. This kid was clearly trying, though, so Amelia couldn’t bring herself to be offended.

“New to Valehaven?” she asked as she loaded her bagged groceries back into her cart.

The boy coughed — a wet sound that probably meant he should be home with some soup — then chuckled sheepishly. “Uh, yeah,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Grew up in St. Evans over in North Emelina. My dad got a new job with some city contractors, so… here we are.”

Amelia perked up. “City contractors?” she asked. “For the new PACT Initiative?”

She’d been following the news story about the proposed Paranormal Alliance for Coexistence and Trust (and the accompanying Crypticonsortium drama) for months now. It wasn’t exactly riveting stuff, but the prospect of improving supernatural/human relations was tantalizing. Supernaturals were far stronger, of course, but globally, humans outnumbered them a hundred to one. Anything that soothed relations and kept people friendly was a good thing in Amelia’s books. Wars might make for good plot points in books, but she didn’t actually want to live through one.

The boy blinked. “Uh… yeah? That sounds right.” He shrugged. “I don’t really know the details.”

“That’s okay. Your father is doing important work,” said Amelia, smiling warmly at the boy.

The boy cracked the smallest of genuine smiles in return, and the vampire in gym clothes behind Amelia cleared his throat pointedly.

“Oh! Sorry,” she said. “Look at me holding up the line! My bad.”

The vampire raised an eyebrow and shook his head, setting his magazine and caffeinated bottle of pre-workout blood on the conveyor belt.

Amelia grimaced apologetically, then bustled out of the store and crossed the parking lot to her ‘76 powder blue pickup, loading her groceries quickly into the passenger seat. She slammed the door, straightened up, and glanced around, squinting for the cart return. Ahh… there it was. Down the row to the left. Returning grocery carts was the very backbone of a civilized society. It ranked right under books, but well above small talk.

There was a strange scuffling sound behind her as she walked, and Amelia paused, peering around with a furrowed brow. She saw only cars, shopping carts, and a single small unicorn-raccoon, poking at an empty burger wrapper with its squat, glossy horn. Still, she couldn’t dismiss the unsettling feeling of being watched. But looking around again — and seeing no danger — she decided she was being silly. It was just past five o’clock on a Thursday afternoon. The sky was bright, and there was no better self-defense than her dragon form.

“Paranoid much?” she mumbled to herself under her breath.

Amelia hitched her purse higher on her shoulder and double-tapped her earbud to restart her audiobook, shoving the cart back into the corral with her other hand.

“…never would have asked you if I’d realized you’d put yourself in danger to do it! I want the kingdom safe, but I… I need you safe more,” declared the book’s narrator. He shifted his voice for the next character, softening it and raising the pitch. “And I would have come anyway, Nerrum! You seem to be under the false impression that I’m simply waiting to act at your every beck and call — you impossible, pigheaded, wonderful fool!”

Amelia smiled. The enemies-to-lovers kiss was about to happen; she could feel it in her bones. She started to turn on her heel and head back to the truck when something cold and damp pressed against her mouth while a large hand squeezed her upper arm in a painful, vice-like grip. She squirmed, her fingers tingling and her bones blazing as she instinctively reached for her dragon.

Thirty seconds. If she could just hold on for thirty seconds, this guy would be toast… but before she could shift, something bitterly cold and agonizing pierced her neck.

Amelia gasped and inhaled some of the cold fabric against her mouth. Her abdomen heaved, scrambling for oxygen, but the rag (or whatever it was) pressed against her face was too tight. She could barely breathe, and the pain in her neck spread through her body at an alarming rate.

She was only here because she needed chicken thighs and curry paste for dinner. What was even…

The world tipped precariously to the left, and the colors of the parking lot swirled — fading to a murky, dirty gray.

Amelia slumped, and massive arms caught her. She was jostled as the hulking figure unceremoniously slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

She was awake, but barely. She could feel her dragon-form just under the surface, scrabbling to emerge, but she couldn’t… couldn’t reach it. Snippets of urgent conversation battered her ears, adding a layer of sickening confusion to the ache in her body.

“…in the van…”

“Go, go!”

The slam of a car door.

Someone was shouting from very far away. They seemed upset.

“Back to…”

Squealing tires.

“…sure this is…”

“…not an idiot…know what I’m…”

“Fine. Make the call.”

Silence for a moment, then…

“Boss? We got her.”