Authors: Megan Morgan
“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.”
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.”
The July sun seemed too bright. Snow had been falling when she arrived in Chicago, the air so icy she could barely breathe. Now it was too hot to breathe. She could never breathe.
This moment was epic. She should feel something profound and a vast overwhelming sense of relief. Trumpets should sound. Angels should descend and bestow orgasms upon her. The world should shift into focus.
Instead, she felt numb.
“I don’t think we’ll ever be normal everyday citizens,” she said. “Especially not you, Mr. Politician.”
“That
was
my normal everyday life.” He squeezed her arm. “What about you?”
“I don’t get to go back to mine, remember?”
They were silent.
“What if you could?” he asked softly. “What if your brother and friend weren’t prisoners, and the FBI would let you leave the state. Would you go home?”
She didn’t know the answer to that, and she hated not knowing the answer to that.
“You’re always trying to get me out of your hair.” She winked at him. “Haven’t you learned by now that doesn’t work?”
He leaned over and rested his chin on her shoulder. “Even if I win? You won’t ditch me?”
She was surprised, deep down, he would want her to stay by his side if he became mayor. She didn’t know why that surprised her. Feelings were complicated. They were more annoying than vampires.
“I don’t know anything about politics.” She frowned. “Or relationships. I’m just gonna put that out there right now, so you know what you’re getting into.”
“I know the politics part. Guess we’ll have to learn the rest together.”
The FBI granted them a private car to take them to Sam’s house. Aaron would get his own, to take him elsewhere. June gathered up her things. She didn’t have much, as months on the run had instilled a certain sense of minimalism in her. At least a private car would help them move discreetly and keep them away from reporters.
They left the hotel through a private exit, also good—not that anyone outside the FBI and their trusted friends knew where they were. Into another car, to take another ride. She still didn’t feel free.
“It’s good they gave your house back.” She slumped against Sam’s side in the backseat. This time it wasn’t a limo, merely a big car with a driver. “And they’re unfreezing your assets.”