Page 13 of Shadowkissed

“I don’t have time for the PR department.”

Rosa taps a few keys, then waves a glowing ID badge at me. “Take Bay Three. And Dante?”

I stop, halfway to the door.

“Don’t piss her off.”

“No promises.”

Tamsin looks like she hasn’t slept in two days, which is about average for her. She’s tall, Black, and wears her hair shaved on one side, dreadlocks pulled into a knot on the other. Her coat’s lab-issue, but the boots beneath it are combat grade. She doesn’t do soft. Doesn’t do small talk.

She’s leaning over a hologram of Manhattan when I walk in, runes flickering over her fingers as she shifts the map. I can see the pulse points—rips in the Veil, glowing red like wounds that haven’t scabbed over.

I cross my arms. “It’s spreading.”

Tamsin doesn’t look up. “No shit. The Veil’s held together with spit and spite these days. Magic’s leaking into places it was never meant to touch.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you’ve got mundanes dreaming in languages they don’t know. Children calling shadow-beasts their imaginary friends. Psychics waking up screaming in the middle of the night. Something big is pushing through. And it’s accelerating.”

I nod once. My jaw tightens.

“They’re not ready for it,” she adds, finally meeting my eyes.

“The mundanes?”

“They can’t even agree if shifters should be allowed to vote, Dante. They’re sure as hell not prepared for fae wars and underworld gate breaches.”

I don’t argue. She’s right. The humans forced themselves into tolerance, not acceptance. Most of ‘em still look at me like I’m a bomb waiting to go off. I’ve seen the protests. The riots. The panic every time something supernatural hits the news cycle.

People are scared. People do stupid things when they’re scared.

I lean in. “I need intel. Fae presence in New York. Unregistered. Female. Powerful.”

Tamsin’s brow lifts. “You’re gonna have to narrow that down.”

“Violet eyes. Shadow affinity. Glamour so good it hurts to look at.”

That gets her attention.

She taps at the display, brings up a search grid. “You sure you saw what you think you saw?”

A part of me wants to explain what I saw but the other part of me is telling me to shut my mouth and not even look into it. So, I decide to leave her out of the rogue situation. “I’m sure.”

“Shit,” she mutters.

“What?”

“There’s been whispers. Nothing solid. Just murmurs from the underground. Some say there’s a dark fae running solo. Doesn’t belong to court, doesn’t answer to council. They call her?—”

“Nightshade,” I finish.

Tamsin’s eyes sharpen. “You’ve seen her.”

“Not enough. Just heard she was a dancer at the place I picked up the rogue.”

“Maybe that’s on purpose.”

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