“Great,” Edden said, scanning for a familiar face. “Jenks, stay with Rachel. I don’t want anyone from the press bothering her,” he said as he hitched his pants up and tightened his tie. “We’ll be right back. Someone needs a refresher on this sharing information thing we’re supposed to be doing.”

I rolled my eyes, wishing him luck as Ivy looped her arm in his and they started across the bridge to the Hollows end of everything. “They’re just afraid, Edden,” I heard Ivy say as they left, a sultry sway to her hips. “FIB forensics can put them in the ground, and they’re tired of looking bad.”

I couldn’t help my smile as I watched them, her svelte sleekness next to his round solid form, both very different but alike where it counted.

“Ah, ‘scuse me, Rache,” Jenks said, a pained look on his face. “I gotta pee. Don’t move.”

I looked around, seeing a car I could lean up against. “Okay.”

His wing hum increased as he hovered right before my nose. “I mean it. Don’t move.”

“Okay!” I said, leaning against the car, and he darted over the edge of the bridge.

Sighing, I turned to the insistent beeping of the last car being towed off. Most of the news crews had left with the recovering spell victims, and it was beginning to thin out. A man in a trendy black suit drew my attention, up to now hidden behind the Toyota being carted out, and I frowned as he looked at his phone, fingers tapping. It wasn’t his dress, and it wasn’t his haircut—both trendy and unique—it was his grace. Living vampire? Since when do they like the gadgety toys?

A distant pop across the bridge sounded, and the man looked up, his eyes scanning until they fastened on mine.

A chill dropped through me as I took in his blond hair shifting in the wind, the grace with which he tucked it behind an ear, the knowing, sly smile he wore as he looked me up and down. Suddenly I felt alone. “Jenks!” I hissed, knowing he was probably within earshot. This guy wasn’t FIB, and he definitely wasn’t I.S., even if he was a living vampire. The suit said he had clout, and confidence almost oozed from him. “Jenks!”

Putting his attention back on his phone, the man hit a few more keys, slipped the phone in a pocket, turned, and walked away. In three seconds, he was gone.

“Jenks!” I shouted, and the pixy darted up, his dust an irate green.

“Good God, Rache, give me a chance to shake it, huh?”

My hands on the warm car burned, and I curled my fingers as I scanned the crowd. Slowly my pulse slowed. “Are you sure my aura is okay?” I asked out of the blue.