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CHAPTER 1

Having a breakdown in thefor a reporter's career

Holly Storrip around the microphone Her breath caht to hold on to her control

"Holly…" The reed-thin voice of her producer

Shit Her career was about to hit the toilet She dragged her gaze away fro to a hulanced back toward the round lens of the ca to you live frohter

"A brutal… the way the poor guy had been sliced to ribbons

Get a grip, girl She couldn't afford a ht now

After a hard s, she finally ed to suck in a full breath Holly cleared her throat, then spoke in that cale co…" At least not to her But then, the two detectives on the scene-Colin Gyth and Todd Brooks-weren't exactly on her "friends" list "But this reporter can't help but wonder just what sort of rowl to her right

Her gaze darted over, just for a ht stare of Detective Gyth

Screw hi live fro off"

The camera lens watched her for a silent moment Then…

"Christ, Holly, you think that was a little dra the cauy alore, rain or shine, night or day, rested high on his head A line of stubble lined his jaw

"Draood," she told him, aware that while her voice was cool, her heart thundered hard enough to shake her chest "Draet about their crappy days and pay attention to the news"

"Are you okay?" The quieter, and no longer panicked, voice of her producer asked "Not everyone is cut out for these kinds of stories"

Her shoulders, already straight, stiffened even more No as she about to be yanked off this story Her last encounter with the Other –the supernaturals alked the streets acting like hued hair, a body full of bruises, and the acid of fear on her tongue

But she wasn't the running-and-hiding type Okay, fact one: Monsters existed Fact two: Those monsters scared the hell out of her Fact three: If she wanted to work in this town, and she did, then Holly was gonna have to learn how to live with the darker beings that stalked the streets

"I'm fine, Mac" McArthur Phillips was a news veteran Once an anchor for News Flash Five, the sixty-three-year-old had turned his attention to bossing folks around in his producer gig Not that Mac looked sixty-three The guy worked out four times a week to keep his body in top "anchor" forray

Froenerally spoke softly, but could rip the flesh off anyone who got in his ith just a few careful words Probably a leftover trait frouy had served back in Vietnam She'd heard more than a few of his stories before

"Don't lie to me" Still soft, but with a hard rasp beneath the words "You looked pale as death for aon camera-"

"Would be ahis hat down a bit as a smile curved his thin lips