“Another one?” Jennifer asked.

This happened every now and then when they got a new team leader. Whoever it was, they came riding in on their big white horse, ready to save the world. What they didn’t understand was the DPCA, the Department of Paranormal Creatures and Activity, dealt with this shit all the time.

“Shifters are going missing,” her new boss said, and Jennifer raised her eyebrows.

“I am aware, sir. Which group is it this time?”

“This happens often?”

“Well, no more than it happens to full humans, I suppose. Typically, it’s a supe on supe situation for which we have special ops teams designated to deal with them. Each team has a certain set of skills required to handle whatever the situation calls for.”

“This isn’t that, Miss Dylluan. It seems the missing Shifters are being kidnapped and sold for sport. I am forwarding you the brief, since I believe you know some of the missing,” he said.

“What? That’s awful,” she replied, glancing down at her tablet to look through the file he’d just sent her.

“It is a problem, Miss Dylluan. However, I understand we have another issue closer to home.”

“An issue, sir? You mean the assimilation project?”

“Yes. That. Can you handle it?”

“I can try, sir.”

“Good. we need the Drakeins safely incorporated into society. We don’t need any more eyes on us. The missing Shifters' case is already causing a stir. Humans believe they have a serial killer on hand. You know how normals love their serial killers.”

“I do, sir. I mean, just look at all those podcasts and documentaries. Anyway, it says the victims are from both the east and west coasts, but no bodies have been uncovered. What do we think happened to them?”

“We don’t know. Miss Dylluan. But I need you to keep your operatives informed, just in case they hear anything.”

“Of course. I understand, sir.”

“About the assimilation assignment, I don’t have to tell you failure is not an option. Until we find out who is doing this, all Shifterkind is in danger.”

“I understand. It will be fine. I have worked with the Drakein before.”

“Good. Will you require help, Miss Dylluan?”

“There is no need for that. I won’t fail, sir.”

“I’m counting on it, Miss Dylluan.”

Jennifer nodded. She knew when she was being dismissed. She’d worked for the DPCA, the Department of Paranormal Creatures and Activity—a secret offset of the NSA—for long enough to have that part figured out.

Zipping her lip on the sigh she longed to expel, Jennifer left Mother’s office, taking the proffered file from his hands without making the mistake of touching him. Mother was a five foot ten inch tall, three-hundred pound, half-Chinese, half-African American male who’d recently been promoted.

Several of her predecessors made the mistake of underestimating him, but not Jennifer. Her Owl sensed the beast lurking beneath his skin, and it didn’t have anything to do with Shifter magic. She’d been giving him a wide berth ever since he moved into her home office.

Mother used to run a bunch of humans out of DC, but he was in her neck of the woods now, and he was her boss. That alone was enough to rankle, seeing as how Jennifer should have been the one with his job. But she’d been passed over. Again. Mother was a code name, of course, and fuck knew what his real moniker was. Jennifer sure didn’t. And she wasn’t about to ask.

Nope.

Mother was a real tough guy. Old school, hard, and he took shit from no one. It said something about her own ability that he assigned her to this problem.

A problem?

That’s what the new department head was calling the five Drakein females—not counting Daeja, who was mated to Heliodore Wessex of the Wyvern Protection unit, or Wessex Protection Unit as they were officially known—and the two males who’d decided to complete their assimilation training in New Jersey at the Wessex family compound. Seven total. Seven adult Drakein transplants to planet Earth.

The other thirty-nine Drakeins had been dispersed to other units of the DPCA, and their foreign counterparts. It was too dangerous to have all of them in one place. After all, a handful of people enthusing loudly over French fries was one thing, but almost fifty adult Wyvern Shifters demanding buckets of the fast food—that was a bit difficult to hide. With Shifters turning up missing, well, clearly someone let the cat out of the bag. But it wasn’t one of hers. She knew that for a fact.