“Sam might not want me to take drastic measures,” Aaron said. “I could pull my monetary donations that are still keeping Kevin Kramer safe. Or at least threaten it.”

  Sam rubbed his fingers over his lips.

  “Does Kevin Kramer really mean that much to you?” Aaron asked him.

  “He did to my brother,” Sam said.

  Sam’s brother, Thomas, had been Kevin’s best friend. When Thomas was murdered, Kevin had enlisted vampires to hunt down and slaughter Thomas’s murderers—which they had, apart from one killer who remained unknown. The vampires, callous and careless as they were, would have given away Kevin’s involvement without a second thought. Sam asked Aaron to pay them off for their silence. In return, Sam took Muse into his safekeeping to protect her from Aaron’s organization, the anti-paranormal Secular Normalists.

  Obviously, Aaron didn’t need that favor anymore.

  Sam squeezed June’s hand. “We’ll find Occam. It’ll be easier now that we can move in the open.”

  Aaron sighed. “I wish he’d give you more proof he still has them alive before I take drastic measures. Something other than a strand of hair and my watch.”

  June blinked at him.

  “I recognized it. You got it from a box in the attic at the house in Hyde Park. I lived there for a time after my wife passed. All the junk in the attic is stuff I left there when I relocated downtown.”

  “I gave it to him to hide the scar on his wrist,” June said. “It doesn’t even work.”

  Aaron looked out the window. “Something from that time in my life might as well be useful again.”

  She said nothing, rubbing her stomach. As always, it ached, partly from hunger and partly with the usual burning pain gnawing at her guts.

  “Did you eat something this morning?” Sam asked her.

  “I managed to keep some applesauce down. And the vitamins.”

  Since discovering her power would eventually kill her, much the same as Muse’s power had been killing her, June lived as if she’d been given a fatal cancer diagnosis. She’d been through every stage of grief multiple times but had yet to find acceptance. She’d spent most of her life battling nausea, pain, and food issues. The added anxiety and dread made it worse.

  “I still feel gross every morning,” she said. “Maybe it’s progressing faster than Occam said it would.”

  Sam squeezed her hand again. “You’ve been under a lot of stress lately. It’s bound to take a toll on you. Everything is going to work out.”

  She looked into his eyes. Those dark depths were intense, sincere. He believed that.

  “Occam isn’t going to win this game,” he said softly. “And Robbie isn’t going to win his game, either. We’re going to be the winners.”

  “I think you’re just feeling smug right now because we’ve finally got a few punches on our scorecard.”

  “Or maybe it’s because I’ve finally got you, and you make me feel invincible.”

  “Ugh.” She wrinkled her nose. “I thought I was gonna keep the applesauce down.”

  He kissed her but didn’t try to smear her lipstick this time. A brief, comforting kiss.

  They pulled up in front of Tribune Tower on Michigan Avenue. June’s heart raced. The beat quickened even more when she took in the crowds gathered outside.

  People packed the sidewalks around the building, stretching down the street and across the bridge spanning the Chicago River. One lane had been blocked off and filled with police cars. The police were positioned everywhere, along the barricades cordoning off the crowds, around the building’s entrance, in the street itself.

  “Oh my God.” June stared wide-eyed. “Are they serious?”

  Sam was practically vibrating. “Finally, the city is in our favor.”

  She had attended a press conference once before, when Jason was being held by the Institute, in a ploy to get him back. She was now filled with the same horrifying nervousness as back then, her chest tightening so much she could barely breathe. Attention from huge crowds was not something she craved, yet since coming to Chicago that was all she seemed to get.

  “You’re gonna do all the talking, right?” she asked in a small voice.

  “Have you met me?”

  Aaron got on his cell phone. “We’ve arrived. Pulling up now in the Aston Martin.”

  June took a deep bracing breath, trying to open her chest up. Her pounding heart rattled all the wind out of her.

  Chapter 2

  Celebrities must feel this way, only they actually want it. As June walked down the narrow aisle between barricades, plastered to Sam’s side and tucked under his arm, she made a mental note: leave the glamorous life to Jason. He wants to be an actor. People around them were shouting, waving, taking pictures. Some had signs.

  The thought of Jason made her aching stomach worsen.

  Sam seemed to eat it up—grasping hands, waving, blowing kisses like a superstar. The police moved them along, hustling them through the commotion. If Sam stopped to sign autographs, she would punch him in the kidney.

  They passed through revolving doors and into the building’s lobby. Inside, the atmosphere was slightly more subdued.

  She had been inside the Tribune Tower lobby once before, when she and Sam met with Chicago’s second greatest monster—or monster apprentice—Ethan Roberts. She’d been in disguise that day, in contrast to how all eyes were on her now. Most people in the room were obviously reporters, armed with cameras, recorders, and notepads.

  The reprieve from chaos was short-lived. Flashes went off. Shouts rose.

  They were directed around the crowd and into a hallway. The hallway was full of people too. Several of the FBI agents they’d been dealing with were there, along with other official-looking people and more police officers.

  “Was that really necessary?” she demanded of no one in particular as they were escorted down the hallway. “Why couldn’t we be brought in some back way?”

  Sam chuckled. “The city needs to see their heroes.”

  They were ushered into a long high-ceilinged room. More familiar faces appeared. This was where the FBI had set up. These agents had been spending a lot of time with them the past two weeks.

  A man stepped up to them. “Right on time.” His name was Daniel Morton, the lead investigator on their case. “Good to see you.” He shook Sam’s hand and then Aaron’s. He nodded to her.

  She was so insignificant she didn’t even warrant a handshake.

  “That’s quite a crowd,” Sam said. He loosened his grip on her, and she forced herself to let go of him as well. “I’m impressed.”

  “We expected nothing less.” Daniel gestured to a blond woman. “This is Mary Rourke. She’s the coordinator. She’s going to walk you through what will happen today. Remember, you’re not to speak about privileged information that might be detrimental to your case or to the investigation at the Institute. If you’re pressed with any questions that might force you to reveal sensitive information, simply say you can’t talk about it due to the ongoing investigation.”

  June’s head hurt. Her stomach grew queasier by the moment.

  “There they are!” a female voice squealed behind them.

  June turned. Cindy rushed in, arms open and lifted. She wore a blue dress and gold heels, as if she were going to a nightclub. Her bright red hair hung in loose ringlets on her shoulders. As she hustled over to them, her enormous boobs bounced.

  She flung her arms around June. Cindy’s heavy flowery perfume didn’t abate June’s queasiness. Her embrace was soft and overwhelming and all tits.

  “That crowd is nuts,” Cindy said as she drew back. “And it’s all for you.” She gave June a once-over. “Damn girl, look at you. That dress fits just right.”

  “A stylist came by this morning and took care of us,” June said. “They made me cover up my tattoos, said it would make me more ‘palatable.’”

  Cindy huffed. “I’d tell them to kiss my big fat ass. You can save the city, but a tattoo is gonna scare people?”

  “I wish I had a big fat ass for them to kiss.”

  Cindy winked. “Direct them to mine.” She turned to Sam and flung her arms open again. “Look at you!”

  Sam hugged her. Cindy was as tall as Sam, especially in heels. They looked disturbingly sexy in their embrace. June liked Cindy. She would not stab her.

  Cindy even hugged Aaron, though it was a much more delicate, restrained hug. Her perfume lingered in the air, and June tried to subtly inch away before her gag reflex was triggered.

  “You okay?” Sam asked June softly. Apparently, she looked as disgusting as she felt.

  “I think I need some water.” She fanned her face. “And a wastebasket.”

  Sam swiftly left her side. June located an empty chair. She plopped down in it as Cindy chatted with Aaron and Mary Rourke, the poor unfortunate coordinator patiently waiting for their attention.

  At great risk to herself, Cindy had revealed her involvement in their plight and told the FBI everything she knew. She was more acquainted with Robbie than any of them and was able to fill them in on some details. She wouldn’t be part of the press conference, merely present for moral support. Sam intended to make her an officer in the Paranormal Alliance as soon as he retook the helm.

  The glaring omissions to this celebration stood out in June’s mind. Jason and Diego should have been there, but they weren’t the only ones. Someone else should get to sit in front of the crowd of reporters and finally be avenged for the sins committed against him.

  Micha had been hospitalized and was under guard at said hospital. No one clarified why he was there—hopefully for study and not because his health had deteriorated due to the serum; however, his absence today presented a worrying sign it was the latter.

  He deserved this day, and he’d been robbed of that, too.

  Sam returned. He held a water bottle in one hand and a small plastic wastebasket in the other. Her hero in a tailored suit.

  He plunked the wastebasket on the floor next to her and twisted the lid off the bottle. A few people glanced their way. Just what she needed, more attention.

  He handed her the bottle. “Take it slowly.”

  She took it, smiling weakly. How did she not realize he was such a kind, patient man? Maybe she’d always realized it, but she just didn’t want to realize she realized it, because that would mean facing her conflicted emotions. Or maybe he was just nice to broads he dated.

  Dating. Were they actually dating? They’d never gone out on a date. They’d never been able to.

  “Thanks.” She took a tiny drink.

  He knelt in front of her. Mary had her hands on her hips, lips pursed, her patience seemingly starting to wane. Sam kept his back to her.

  “It’s all going to be okay.” He touched June’s knee. “We’ll get through this day, and then we’ll start dealing with all the other crap we have to deal with. Just smile for the cameras and look pretty. That won’t be hard for you.”

  “Oh my God.” She rubbed her forehead. “If I knew you were like this, I would have run the other way.”

  “Sorry, you old sea hag. Maybe we should put a sack over your head before we go out there, so you don’t scare the small children.”

  “That’s better.” She took another sip.

  “Mr. Haain?” Mary said. “You have to go out in fifteen minutes. I need to fill you in on what’s going to happen.”

  Sam rose. June stayed in her chair, close to the trash can. At least the vitamins would have absorbed by now. She hoped.

  Mary, Aaron, and Cindy walked over to join them, since Sam didn’t move from his spot, standing before her like a guardian, or a shield. A puke shield.

  Mary looked at Cindy, arching an eyebrow. Cindy didn’t seem to notice, stroking her fingers through her curls.

  “Cindy,” Sam said.

  Cindy blinked a few times and then snapped to attention. “Oh!” She squeezed Sam’s arm. “I’ll see you out there. Knock ’em dead.” She made a pouty face at June and blew a kiss to her before hustling out of the room.

  “Okay,” Mary said. “The conference is being capped at an hour, with only forty-five minutes of questions. Everyone in the audience knows this. Mr. Morton has told me there are things you’re not allowed to talk about, so it’s better if we keep this short to avoid too much questioning and pressure. If you wish to speak to anyone on the way out, that’s your prerogative.”

  “This is our show today,” Sam said. “We get the upper hand, finally.”

  “I’ll present a general overview of the panel, and then you can each have a few minutes to say what you like. After that, we’ll open the floor to questions. We do have moderators to keep things running smoothly and weed out any inappropriate pressure.”

  Sam huffed. “Good luck.”

  “We don’t want this to become a free-for-all. I realize emotions are running high, but try to put your best face forward and we’ll try to control the media. After the questions, you may supply some additional closing statements, if you like.”

  “Who do you work for?” Sam asked her.

  This was all about to roll down the proverbial hill and explode.

  “I work for the Tribune.” She frowned. “I’m the media relations director.”

  “Then you know who I am,” Sam said.

  “Of course.”

  “And you know how we’ve been treated. Mistreated, I should say. Hunted. Vilified. Maligned.”

  “Disenfranchised,” June added.

  “Mr. Haain—”

  “This is our day to tell those who ground us under their heels they can go to hell.”

  “Mr. Haain.” Mary glared at him. “While what you’ve been through is traumatic, I’m sure you know as a public figure there’s a certain decorum you must—”

  “Never.” Sam made a chopping motion with his hand. “If you know me, you know I don’t give a damn about decorum. My brand of decorum is to slap them in the mouth if they’re running it too much. These folks are going to sit down and listen to me today.”

  Aaron adjusted his tie. “I think, Mrs. Rourke, you’ll agree that holding this press conference was the most foolish thing you could have done. Giving a voice to the wrongfully accused is just throwing more fuel on an already raging fire. A fire we intend to stoke.”

  She turned her glare on Aaron. “If you turn this into a fiasco, it’s on you. Today is about triumph. I would strongly advise you not to turn it into a circus. State your side of the story with dignity and gain their respect.”

  “I have plenty of dignity.” Sam drew himself up. “You’re about to see how much dignity I’m capable of.”

  June’s head spun. Their words swirled around her like a tornado. She clutched the bottle. Her mouth watered.

  “What’s left of the Paranormal Alliance is here,” Sam said. “They’re here to rally to me, and I will not disappoint them.”

  Mary drew a breath through her nose. “As I said, we have moderation in place, and that goes both ways, Mr. Haain.”

  June lurched forward and grabbed the wastebasket. She heaved into it. She didn’t have much to bring up except the water, and it sucked. In the midst of her retching, Sam’s comforting hand touched her neck. He couldn’t have asked for a more attractive girlfriend.

  After the puking stopped, she felt immensely better. She remained bent over the wastebasket, though, just in case. She would have to fix her damn lipstick again. She mused she should invent a lipstick line for chronic pukers. The commercials would be awesome.

  Sam caressed and squeezed her neck. “Well, that’s what we think of your moderation, Mrs. Rourke.”

  Chapter 3

  Sitting in front of the crowd, June vividly remembered the field house at Promontory Point, when she’d had to face the press about her and Jason. A million cameras were focused on them. Eager faces, blinding lights. A constant murmur filling the hush between questions.

  Gratefully, most of the attention was directed at Sam. Probably because he wouldn’t shut up.

  “Mr. Haain,” a blond man near the front called out. “What are your thoughts on the massacre that Robert Beecher perpetrated against your group in Jackson Park?”

  June rubbed her stomach, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the crowd. She was glad she’d thrown up before she came out.

  “What do I think?” Sam snorted. “I think if I get my hands on him, he’s going to wish he were in prison instead.”

  Sam sat in the middle, June on his right, Aaron silent and stoic on his left. June declined to give an opening statement, allowing Sam more floor time. The back of the room was filled with Paranormal Alliance members, and they started clamoring every time he talked.

  “I’m grateful for every person who survived him and is here today,” Sam said. Shouts rose in the back. “I’ve vowed to all my people that Robbie will pay for what he did to their fellow members, their friends, their families. He’s worse than the Institute. He’s insidious, and he destroys his own kind. He doesn’t need to be put in prison. He needs to be burned alive like he did to my friends.”

  June winced. The shouting in the back got louder, mixed with cheering and clapping.

  Mary sat tight-lipped to June’s right. Just offstage was their squadron of FBI babysitters.

  “So what do I think?” Sam spoke over the continuing commotion. “I think I’ll send him to Hell where he belongs.”

  The moderators had to wrangle the crowd back into order—not the first time in the past fifteen minutes. June was watching the time on the big clock on the wall.

  The commotion died down, and a woman asked, “Is it true Micha Bellevue isn’t here today because he’s suffering ill effects from the administration of the serum?” The serum was originally supposed to be kept confidential, but due to the leaked video, that bombshell was impossible to withhold from the public.

  Aaron sat forward. “Mr. Bellevue is currently under the care of the Greater Chicago FPS. They will be doing all they can to assist in his examination and study.”