Nora Walker, a psychic vampire, is conscripted into a task-force of supernatural legends that care more for themselves than the cataclysmic threat they face...
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Colour bled from the scene. Textures dissolved into an iridescent mist and the stuff of souls flared into focus. Hundreds of auras, thousands of auras, millions of auras — I was stranded in a constellation of life. The shining orbs spiralled upward and outward in every direction as humans followed the patterns of walkways, railroads and elevators. They looked like bright ants marching, utterly unaware of how minuscule and pointless their existence truly was.
Glancing around, I came to the conclusion that most of the auras in our direct vicinity belonged to humans. Their energies flowed naturally, undisturbed and unbound by the anatomy of their hosts. In one of the restaurants to the far right I saw a bundle of energy that was the opposite of normal, distinctly humanoid in shape; the customer was evidently a vampire or werewolf, whose life-force was tethered to their cells to aid in transformative or regenerative abilities.
But that was only one supernatural being, and I was looking for a whole group of them. I squinted, beyond the limitations of the square and into the street beyond. Human, human, two horses drawing more humans in a carriage, another human... I felt my forehead crumple into a frown and made an effort to smooth it out, loathe to make myself susceptible to wrinkles. I wasn't blessed with immortality and naturally airbrushed skin like some other denizens of the shadow world.
It took longer than I would have liked, but I eventually spied a set of auras that defied the despicably boring norm. Pressed close together as they were, their auras had blurred into a shapeless mass in my peripheral vision; it wasn't until I dropped the second sight that I realised why.
"There," I said, pointing out an unimpressive silver vehicle with tinted windows. "See that suspicious-looking Honda Civic parked on the curb? There are three supernaturals inside of it. Probably male, based on their figures."
Ruben stepped forward, shielding his eyes from the glare of the overcast sky. "Good work, Nora. Let's go and introduce ourselves."
Anything was better than standing in the cold. Shoving Owen's wallet deep in my pocket, I hurried after Ruben and tried not to slip on the concrete steps that led down to the road.
The Civic was already running, smoke puffing from the exhaust to join the canopy of smog overhead. Thinking only of how good it would feel to press my icy fingers against the heating vents inside, I raced ahead and knocked on the passenger door.
The electric window wound down nice and slow, revealing the boy in the front seat one inch at a time. His blonde hair had a caramel lustre, curling around his ears and brushing up against the grey scarf wound around his throat. Most of his face was shrouded by a pair of grossly expensive sunglasses, but his mouth was perfectly capable of communicating the full scope of his disdain.
"Honora Walker?"
I cocked my head to the side, intrigued by the thick layer of charm he'd smeared over the bite of impatience in his tone. It reminded me, quite abruptly and absurdly, of crunchy peanut butter.
