The FPS were the Freelance Paranormal Scientists—in other words, “not the Institute”—the organization that Trina worked for.

  The reporter added to her question, “Is it true the serum worked, and Mr. Bellevue is a normal who is now exhibiting paranormal symptoms?”

  Aaron spoke as they’d been taught to. “We are not at liberty to discuss that at this time.”

  “Symptoms?” Sam said. “Did you just say paranormal symptoms?”

  Mary interrupted. “We should move on to the next question.”

  Hands shot up.

  A reporter stood. “Is it true what Mr. Bellevue has told the press? That the research his wife conducted on vampires was entirely fabricated by her, and that she was working in collusion with the Institute to perpetuate lies about and toward the paranormal community?”

  June glanced at Sam. They couldn’t blow apart that story, not if they wanted to get Jason and Diego back in one piece.

  “It’s true,” Sam said. “At least from what I understand and the things Mr. Bellevue told me while we were in seclusion. I’m sure we’ll learn much more about all the Institute’s lies in the coming months. I wouldn’t put anything past them.”

  June looked down.

  “Ms. Coffin.”

  She lifted her head and stared into the crowd. A man toward the front had addressed her.

  “Your brother,” the man said. “The case against the Institute states that he was held prisoner there, while you managed to escape. Why is he not here today to talk about his role in the crimes committed against you?”

  She’d told the FBI Jason left Chicago a long time ago and she no longer had contact with him, nor knew his whereabouts. They wanted to question him. She and Sam had agreed setting the FBI on Occam would sign Jason and Diego’s death sentences. Occam didn’t seem the kind of vampire to react well if the Feds swooped down on him.

  She cleared her throat. “He didn’t want to speak today. He’s suffered enough during this ordeal.”

  Sam reached under the table and squeezed her thigh. “June and her brother have both suffered enough. They were victims, as so many of us were. She was forced to lie in January, at the press conference with Eric Greerson, to save her brother.” He looked over at their babysitters. “I trust the FBI will get justice for both of them and for every paranormal person wronged by that despicable place.”

  Several encouraging shouts sounded from the back. Sam kept his hand on her thigh.

  “What about you, Ms. Coffin?” the man followed up. “What have these past six months been like for you?”

  She boggled. Everything she wanted to say would get her in trouble. Suddenly, everyone in the room stared at her, every camera focused on her.

  “Um…it was…”

  “What do you think it was like?” Sam snapped. “We’ve been hunted, menaced, lied about, mistreated—”

  “Mr. Haain,” Mary said. “Please let Ms. Coffin answer the question, if she wants to.”

  Sam snapped his mouth shut. June took a deep breath. Her chest wouldn’t expand far.

  “I’ve been through a lot.” She didn’t make eye contact with anyone. “I’ve been taken prisoner. I’ve been shot. I watched people die. People I cared about.” She swallowed. “It sucked.” She focused on the man. “It really, really sucked, if you wanna know.”

  Sam removed his hand from her thigh and rubbed her shoulder.

  “But I stayed when I could have left.” She looked down. “Because we were fighting for something important. The truth.”

  Sam stilled his hand.

  “And Sam and Aaron didn’t deserve the lies that were told about them. I had to stick around and see their names cleared.”

  “We were struggling in solidarity,” Sam said. “June was invaluable to our plight. She was invaluable to me. She still is.”

  A hushed murmur passed through the crowd. At least they had something new and less horrible to gossip about.

  “My story isn’t the important one,” June said. “Robbie needs to pay. And so does the Institute.”

  The moderators returned to fielding questions. Sam continued dominating the panel. Aaron announced he was in the process of dismantling the SNC. His intention was to filter any willing members into the Paranormal Alliance, since for the first time Sam was opening the group to normals in the form of a “normal allies” branch.

  This announcement met with some derision from the back of the room.

  “It’s in our best interests,” Sam explained. “In fact, I’d like to announce that on Saturday, four days from now, we will be having a gathering at North Avenue Beach, starting at noon. I welcome all good-standing members of the Paranormal Alliance and our future allies from the Secular Normalists to attend and get to know each other.”

  June blinked. This was the first she’d heard about a beach party. Aaron stared at him too, gaping.

  “We’ll be having an overnight gathering,” Sam said. “Food, friends, camping, unity. I want us to come together and see that to win our fight we need help and solidarity. The coming months are going to be trying as we search for Robbie and watch the Institute go up in flames.”

  Was this his big announcement? It certainly seemed to stir up the crowd.

  June leaned toward him. “We’re going camping on a beach?” she whispered.

  “Hope you like that sort of thing.”

  “I don’t.”

  The rest of the questions largely centered around what they’d been up to the past six months, where they’d been, and how they managed to prove their innocence. Many of these questions they weren’t allowed to answer.

  Mary kept to her word, and at forty-five minutes, questions were halted. June breathed a sigh of relief. She declined to give a closing statement, but Aaron spoke.

  “I would like to thank those who supported us through this ordeal,” he said. “Those who believed in us and would not accept the lies that were being told about us. We have sacrificed…so much, but it’s good to see justice finally being served. I hope the Institute will pay for the crimes they’ve committed against the paranormal community, and that Robert Beecher will be quickly found and brought to justice. And I hope, in some small way, this cleanses some of the sins left over from my father’s negative, oppressive legacy.”

  The crowd applauded. June sipped from the water bottle she’d been given.

  Sam rose to his feet, arms spread wide. The applause died off.

  “I would just like to say,” he said loudly, the microphone on the table still picking him up, “that the members of the Paranormal Alliance who supported me through this and who saw so many of their friends and family suffer at the hands of that monster will be rewarded for their loyalty and pain. I will make sure you have bright and prosperous futures and that no one will ever put his foot on your neck again.”

  Wild applause and hollering erupted from the back of the room.

  “There will be many programs put in place this year to help you. I plan to funnel more funding into our outreach and education programs and have more charity drives to help those who were affected in Jackson Park. Additionally, I plan to set up programs to help those who suffered at the hands of the Institute.”

  The entire room applauded this time. June clapped quietly as well.

  “And”—he lifted a hand—“I have one more very big announcement that you might enjoy.”

  Every camera and gaze focused on him. He took a dramatic pause.

  “I’m throwing my hat back in the political ring. This election season, I’m running for mayor.”

  June was taking a drink, and she choked. The crowd lost their collective shit, from the hyper-excited ones in the back to the gasping, baffled reporters. The entire room exploded in an uproar. Sam stood smug, jerking the lapels of his jacket.

  “What?” June croaked at him.

  They were ushered out in a flurry of shouted questions and taken back to the room where they’d been before the press conference.

  A distinct squealing followed them in.

  “You’re running for mayor?” Cindy flung her arms around Sam’s neck. “You’ve got my vote!”

  “What the hell?” June goggled at him. “You haven’t said anything about this.”

  “I’ve been mulling it over,” Sam said. “I miss politics. The iron is hot right now. It’s a good time to strike. Public opinion has never been more in my favor.”

  “Or in your favor at all,” Aaron said dryly. “My God, Sam.”

  Cindy clasped her hands under her chin, beaming at June. “You could be the first lady of Chicago!”

  June cringed.

  Sam chuckled. “Now, there’s no saying I’ll win. But I’ve decided. Why not give it a shot?” He winked at June. “Wouldn’t be the first Jew in charge.”

  “You’re not a Jew, as you explained.” June squeezed the bridge of her nose. “I don’t— How are you even gonna run a campaign right now?”

  “And what’s this about the beach?” Aaron asked. “Can you just do that? Don’t you need a permit to have something like that? I mean, I know we discussed a get-together, briefly.”

  Sam huffed. “I’m on the Metropolitan Pier and Exposition Authority. Pretty sure my seat is available and I’ll come back to open arms.”

  “We didn’t discuss this.” Aaron glared at him.

  “We’ll discuss it tonight.” Sam turned to June and offered his arm. “Don’t you want to be seen on the arm of the most loved man in the city right now?”

  “I don’t know. Is there room for me next to your ego?” She took his arm. “Can’t we wait to leave until everyone else does?”

  “Oh, they’re not going anywhere.”

  They were ushered out, surrounded by police officers. Cindy and Aaron followed June and Sam. As soon as they stepped into the outer room, the chaos renewed. Sam slipped his arm around her and waved to the crowd.

  “We love you Sam!” a girl screamed. “You have our vote!” She wore a blue shirt.

  Like every other cause on the planet, the city had adopted a color as a show of support—for some reason, blue. Blue like they were feeling all those months, June supposed.

  Someone else yelled, a man’s voice. “This is a cover-up! The CIA is turning Micha Bellevue into a weapon!”

  June stopped short.

  The man who yelled had glasses and a long ponytail. He widened his eyes as June focused on him.

  “Are you the conspiracy blogger guy?” June hollered over. “I love your stuff! It kept me entertained all those months.”

  He gaped at her.

  “You were wrong, though!”

  Sam pulled her away.

  Outside, the screams were deafening. Cops kept a clear aisle between the onlookers, the crowd barely being held back by the barricades. At the end of the aisle—what seemed like miles away—their car sat at the curb.

  June feared one of Robbie’s supporters would be lurking in the crowd. If Sam went up in a pillar of flame, she would cling to him, because she didn’t want to live in a world where things like that became an everyday occurrence.

  She held her breath as they were hustled down the aisle. People grabbed at them. Sam touched their hands. He kept one arm firmly around her, so she at least had a place to hide. Her heart raced and her mouth was dry. Hopefully, all the water she’d drunk wouldn’t come back up in front of everyone.

  That would be festive on the front page of the newspaper.

  They had nearly reached the car when someone grabbed her hand, which she’d foolishly left dangling at her side. She panicked and tried to yank it away. Something was shoved into her palm, and the hand released her. She almost flung away whatever it was, but she glanced down at it.

  A small folded piece of paper. Surely some schlub hadn’t just given her his phone number.

  She wrenched her head around, trying to see who it was, but so many faces swam in her vision.

  They reached the open back door of the car. Sam took his arm from around her and gently nudged her inside. He didn’t need to, though. She scrambled in.

  Cindy climbed in next, followed by Sam, and then Aaron. June scooted over as far as she could on the seat. Cindy sat across from her, next to Aaron, and Sam at her side. When the door slammed shut, June sagged, the commotion outside muffled. People huddled around the car, but they were all cops and FBI.

  “This is so exciting!” Cindy clutched her hands to her chest. “Oh my God, Sam, listen to them. You’re gonna be mayor without question.”

  Sam gripped June’s arm. “You okay?”

  “I am now. I’m not cut out for the limelight.”

  “You guys sounded great up there, though.” Cindy leaned over and squeezed June’s knee. “You handled those questions like a pro.”

  “Some of us more than others.” Aaron eyed Sam.

  June plucked the paper out of her palm.

  “What’s that?” Sam asked.

  “Someone shoved this in my hand when we were walking through the crowd.” She unfolded it. “It’s probably a love letter for you.”

  Cindy laughed. “Do you like me, future Mr. Mayor? Check yes or no.”

  It was a torn sheet of notebook paper. Her brain recognized the handwriting before she read the words.

  Good job holding up Micha’s end of the bargain. I’m going to be a very busy man for the next couple days. If you call out for me, I may be slow, but I’ll come.

  The note was signed “O.”

  June lurched forward and stared out the window. Her heart pounded against her ribs, her breath short, gunshot wound aching.

  “What is it?” Sam grabbed the paper from her.

  “Occam was here.”

  Chapter 4

  June sat on the bed in their hotel room—home for the past two weeks—staring blankly out the window at the city. She held the note. Sam was in the other room of the suite with Aaron, receiving their final instructions from the FBI.

  A hand squeezed her shoulder. “So they’re finally cutting you loose.”

  Trina stood over her. Her dark hair was pulled back and she had glasses on, the whole effect very mom-like. She held a plastic bottle out to June. “I brought you some more vitamins. Have you been keeping them down?”

  Since the FBI had sequestered them, June hadn’t been able to go to Trina’s facility for an extensive battery of tests—something she was apprehensive about, anyway, given her past with scientists. In the meantime, Trina had prescribed her an intense vitamin regimen to help with the malnutrition from not being able to put most food in her mouth.

  June took the bottle. “Most of the time. They don’t irritate my stomach too much. That has to be a miracle in itself.”

  Trina knelt in front of her. “We’re going to find a way to fix you. I’m good at what I do. We’ll figure this thing out and reverse it.”

  June didn’t bother to argue that no paranormal person dying from their powers had ever been saved—at least, not according to the extensive research June had done on the Internet.

  “I want to believe you.” June spoke softly. “The alternative is much worse.”

  “So what’s the plan? Where are you going? What are you going to do?”

  “There are still rules we have to play by. We’re not allowed to leave Chicago, which means I’m not going home.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “Sam says his house is still his. They froze all his assets and took over his property when this all went down, but it’s getting transferred back to him. I guess… We’ll stay there.” She looked up at Trina. “You haven’t heard anything from Occam, have you?”

  Trina shook her head. “No vampires around the clinic. I can’t say I’m disappointed.”

  June held out the note. “Someone slipped this to me today, when we were leaving the press conference.”

  Trina took it, read it, and frowned. “It’s from Occam?”

  “That’s his handwriting. Either he was there or one of his minions was. He’s still watching me. Waiting for me to send a message that I’m ready to be his vampire bride.”

  Trina scowled. “I hate him. I hate his smug, stupid fanged face. I hate the way he controls our governing board.”

  “As long as I don’t say no, he won’t hurt them.” She gazed out the window again. “As long as he thinks I’m still weighing my options, he’ll keep them dangling on a hook. The second I say no, I’ll probably find them dead on my doorstep.”

  Trina handed back the note. June tossed it on the bed, along with the vitamin bottle. She had no way of tracking him. Just another taunt. A reassurance his eyes were on her always, watching.

  “I hate that Jason is being held prisoner again,” June said. “I hate that this has been his life. That I have to play superhero and rescue him again.”

  Trina squeezed June’s knee. “You’ll get them back. And Occam’s bullshit will catch up to him one day. You can’t be a jerk for several lifetimes and not have it snap back on you eventually. Listen.” She stood. “Take the weekend to settle in and acclimate yourself. Monday, come to the clinic. We’ll start running tests.”

  June looked up at her. “How’s Micha? Can you tell us why he’s in the hospital now?” She kept her voice down.

  “Being studied.” Something about the tone of her voice whispered of a lie. “He’s tired a lot. He’s been through so many tests.”

  “Is he sick?”

  “Not any more than usual.”

  She was certainly lying.

  “Do you think…I could get in to see him?”

  Trina hesitated. “Maybe. I could talk to some people, see if I can get you a visit. They probably won’t let you stay long, though.”

  “That’s okay. I just need to see him. See that he’s okay.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” She patted June’s shoulder. “Please be careful out there. This city is still an ugly place.”

  “Believe me, I know.”

  Trina left. A short time later, Sam walked into the bedroom.

  “So we’re being released into the wild.” He sat down beside her. “We’re free to go. For the first time since January, we’re normal everyday citizens. We can walk the streets again. Hallelujah.”