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Another soft knock on the door just a few seconds later announces her arrival.

Ophelia steps into the room. Like Cleo, she’s got a tall, lean build, but that’s where the similarities end. Ophelia has light brown eyes to Cleo’s deep red, and dark brown hair to Cleo’s blond. Her face is almost deceptively soft, heart-shaped and lovely in a way that masks the sharp instincts beneath.

“Director Blair,” she says, striding to my desk and offering me her hand. “Nice to see you again.”

After shaking it, I gesture to the empty chair next to Cleo. “Likewise. Please, take a seat.”

Ophelia’s posture is straight and confident as she sits, tone even and steady, ready to get to business. “I hear you’ve got an assignment for me.”

“We’re tracking some news out of Boston,” Cleo jumps in. “Vampires. A few rogues, apparently, causing some trouble in the city.”

“Really?” Ophelia arches a brow. “That seems… hard to believe.”

She’s aware, as we all are, that there’s little to no chance this is just random attacks by bad actors. The vampire covens in Boston are old, organized, keeping a grip on that city with a ruthless order that would rival any human crime family.

“Exactly,” I say. “It’s hard to believe anything like this would be happening without the coven leaders either seeing it and looking the other way, or actively being a part of it.”

Ophelia makes a noise of agreement in the back of her throat. “And which do we think it is?”

I open my mouth to speak again, but Cleo beats me to the punch.

“What I’m about to say doesn’t leave this office,” she warns, and Ophelia nods solemnly.

Theirs is a strange dynamic, one I can’t quite wrap my head around. Sisterly, but also threaded through with years of a complicated history I only know bits and pieces of. It’s not for me to know, I suppose, and Ophelia’s been an asset to this organization ever since Cleo joined us four years ago. They’ve always gotten along in a professional capacity, so I keep myself out of it.

“We have reason to believe it may be a deliberate effort to stir up more anti-paranormal sentiment ahead of the elections this fall,” Cleo says, information the two of us have already discussed at length. “And that some of the covens might have a financial incentive to stay quiet and out of the way while it happens.”

“What makes you believe that?” Ophelia asks.

“Some very opaque intel from a few of my contacts back East,” Cleo says with a huff of irritated breath. “One in particular you might still be in touch with.”

Ophelia’s face contorts into a grimace. “Cassandra?”

“Bingo.”

“Great,” Ophelia drawls. “Can’t wait to see her again.”

Apparently the only one in the dark about why this particular source might be a problem, I clear my throat. “Care to elaborate?”

They both turn to look, like they’ve forgotten I’m there, and Ophelia answers.

“Someone I used to be… friendly with. When I was living in Boston during college.”

Cleo chuckles. “Someone we used to party with, more like.”

They share another look, and I cut in. “And she’s got some sort of connection to the Boston covens?”

“Yes,” Ophelia answers. “With one of the most prominent. I’ll start with her and see where I can get with any information about who might be behind the attacks, and why.”

“Good,” I tell her with a satisfied nod. “And on that note, we’ve got another contract operative in Boston I would like you to partner with on this. He should be arriving any—”

A knock at the door finishes that thought for me.

“Come in,” I call out, standing from my seat.

Ruthie opens the door, and a tall, blond vampire follows her into the room. His blood-red eyes land on me for a moment before he inhales sharply. His gaze cuts to Ophelia, eyes widening almost imperceptibly when he sees her sitting there.

“What an unexpected delight,” Casimir says, recovering from his surprise with his usual careless elegance.