Bride (Ali Hazelwood) by Ali Hazelwood

            I stagger downstairs, trying to recall if I’ve ever gone without blood this long before. The closest was when I first moved back to Human territory, before Serena found me an under-the-table seller I could afford. By the time I got my hands on a small bag it had been three days, and I felt as though my internal organs were feasting on themselves.

            Maybe it’s because my body is shutting down, but I stumble into the kitchen without noticing Lowe and Alex. I stop like a deer in the headlights, wondering why they’re huddled in front of a computer. It’s a bit late for a meeting.

            “Is Ana okay?” I ask, and they both look up at me in surprise.

            “Ana’s fine.”

            I relax. Then tense again. “Did Owen find that footage?”

            Lowe shakes his head.

            “You both look really serious, so— Wait, Alex, what are you—”

            Alex has stood from his chair and is currently hugging me.

            This is a nightmare. Maybe Vampyres do dream, after all.

            “Thank you,” he says. “For what you did for Ana.”

            “What did I— Oh.” This is weird. “You know that I didn’t ingest that poison voluntarily to protect her, right? I just happen to be disgracefully into peanuts.”

            “You would have, though,” he mumbles against my hair.

            “What?”

            “Protected her.”

            I gently push him away, too hungry to argue over whether I’m a good person. I might like him better when he’s terrified of me. “Listen, I’m going to feed before I’m tempted to bite one of Ana’s stuffies or—” I gasp. “Fuck.”

            “What?”

            “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Sparkles. Serena’s damn fucking cat. I forgot about him! Did someone feed him? Is he dead?” How long can cats go without eating? An hour? A month?

            “He’s safe with Ana,” Lowe informs me.

            “Oh.” I press my palm to my chest. “I’ll need him back if—when I find Serena. Though at this point he’s been with Ana longer.” I take a bag out of the fridge. “Maybe they can work out some joint custody—”

            “Misery, I found it,” Alex tells me excitedly. “Serena Paris!”

            “You found Serena?”

            “No, but I found the connection.” He leads me back to the table and we both take a seat next to Lowe. “That search we were working on before you . . .” He gestures at me.

            “Almost croaked?”

            “Yes. I continued it while you were . . .”

            “Almost croaking?”

            “And it was surprisingly difficult. So difficult, I figured we were onto something.”

            “How so?”

            “The identities of the Human-Were Bureau workers were nowhere to be found, which is odd for that kind of government employee.” I glance at Lowe, who stares back calmly. He’s already been briefed. “So I looked . . . harder, let’s say. And stumbled on a list with a very familiar name.”

            “What name?”

            “Thomas Jalakas. He was the Human—”

            “—comptroller of public accounts.” I nod slowly. I’m not sure what that even means, but I do know that it has to do with finance and the economy, because: “Serena emailed with his office. For an article that she was writing. And then she met him in person.”

            “Yup. She interviewed him, though the article was never published.”

            “But I background checked him. I checked everyone she talked to—I found nothing about him being in the Human-Were Bureau.”

            “Precisely. His CV is all over the place, but there are no mentions anywhere that he was at the Bureau for eleven months, eight years ago.”