I was wrong. The night could get much, much worse.

I retraced my steps through Nera Court's poorly lit streets until I found the backstreet where I'd left my car—only, my car wasn't there any longer. I spent almost ten minutes circling the empty spot, cursing and frantic, until a drunken Were lounging on the front steps of a closed store started to bark with laughter, tell me he'd seen my poor car get taken not ten minutes prior. 

Parking illegally could be as dangerous as arguing with ancient, grouchy vampires. You can get tickets, dings in your door, key marks in your paint, or handwritten tirades from parking vigilantes with too much time on their hands. Tonight, I'd received the worst possible outcome: I'd been towed away. Again. 

Grumbling, I left the alley and returned to the main roundabout. The traffic was still abysmal, and there were plenty of people out exploring the Court's nightlife. Most of the tourists liked to remain on the main avenue, under the supposed safety of the neon lights and glittering billboards. They meandered in clumps like algae floating on a pond's surface.

The preternatural preferred the darker alleys and streets where they didn't attract attention, but some braved the crowd. There was a Panthera-Onca Were—a jaguar—lounging on a bus stop with his laminated shifting license hung around his neck. A winged Unseelie was relaxing atop a restaurant's awning, reaching over the edge to flick people on the top of their heads. His glamour prevented them from seeing him, so his victims bickered accusingly with their partners as they rubbed their scalps and stormed off.

I hailed a taxi and got into the back, checking my cuffs to make sure they stayed in place.

"Where to?" the cabbie asked, peering sidelong through the scratched divider.

"The Il Mattone complex." I buckled my seatbelt. "On the east bank."

The went to turn into the flow of traffic but stopped when I spoke and emitted a sharp laugh. "No way, lady. No one goes to the east bank this time of night."

"C'mon!" I complained as the cabbie shook his head. "I just want to go home!"

"No."

"Please? I'll give you a huge tip!" 

"Out!" 

Flustered, I shimmied out of the cab and slammed the door with all my might. "Jerk!" I yelled at the shut window as the car pulled away, leaving me standing at the curb with my hands balanced on my hips. So much for chivalry.

Unfortunately, I didn't have better luck with any of the other cabs I hailed either. It wasn't worth their time to trudge through the crowded streets and cross the bridge to the east bank. I'd known it was a possibility, but I had hoped I to find at least one cabbie who'd be willing to take me home. It seemed my luck had truly run dry that evening.

I started walking. If I managed to put some distance between myself and the obnoxious traffic jam that was Nera Court, I raised my chances of finding a driver willing to cross the bridge. The buses never went over the aqueduct after nightfall, though the public transit system was hardly reliable during the day, either. I didn't want to walk the whole way home, but it was better than staying in the middle of the city when the tourists disappeared and more of the supernatural came out.

Sighing through my nose, I took out my phone and scrolled through my contacts. There weren't many, most being formal numbers for people like my optometrist, my work supervisor, and my landlady, Ms. Louelle. My first choice would have been Sibbie, had her car been working. Alfie was out of the question. He lived so far out in the county's recesses, I could walk home before he managed to make it into the city. 

I left Nera Court and crossed over a pedestrian bridge, listening to the static honks and shouts of drivers on the jammed road below. Someone had gotten into a nasty fender bender, and instead of pulling off to the side, they had blocked the street. Now the line of cars was backed up for a mile at the very least. I didn't think I'd be finding a taxi there, either.

There was a park situated behind Nera Court, separating it from a lane of lesser-known shops and the waterfront. The park was partly enclosed by a rusted chain-link fence, its paths left unmaintained beneath a year's worth of fallen leaves. The rangy oaks had only a handful of yellow leaves left on their scraggly branches, and bunches of mistletoe

Such areas were little better than spots of untamed wilderness littering the urban terrain. The city didn't have the funds to upkeep the park system, so they were left to fall apart, the trees unrestrained, the grass untrimmed. Every few years there was a resurgence of public interest in the parks and local do-gooders would campaign for city improvement, but efforts always fell flat, leaving behind half-painted fences and bags of fertilizer, wildflowers growing rampant in the remains.

When there was always damage to fix and lawsuits to pay off thanks to the city's supernatural population, parks and frivolous recreation areas were the first to go under. I remembered once reading about a plan to privatize the parks, but who would be willing to pay for them? Humans didn't come into Roccia Nera in search of a quiet picnic spot, and the preternatural preferred the lots wilder, and thus more private.

It wasn't smart to go wandering through a park at night, so I kept to the outskirt, in sight of the main road. Still scrolling through my phone, my thumb hesitated over one of the contacts as I marched through the rough bracken and moist lichen. Fang Face.

I considered calling him despite our earlier confrontation, if only because I knew the vampire would now be a few blocks away at the Gilded Glass on the waterfront. I could probably convince him to send someone to pick me up, perhaps Telavar or one of Ishcer's brooding goons, if I asked politely.

I growled as I stuffed my phone back into my pocket. No way was I going to be polite to that fanged bastard. I'd reach the waterfront and see if I could find a cab there, and—if not—I would call Connor and see if one of his pack members was close enough to give me a ride.

To my left, the park was cold and quiet, undisturbed by the evening breeze or the headlights of the cars passing to my right. The traffic was faster here, consisting of only a few late-night workers trying to circumvent the crowded main route and return home. I thought the air felt nice, balmy almost, though a normal person would have said it was chilly. My scars hadn't stopped itching inside my clothes, which I found odd, considering they would have usually quieted by now.

The road careened around the coming leg of the park, diverting to a metal bridge built over a small gully worming its way through the center of the lot. There was a footbridge close by also leading across the gully, but I took one look at the precarious wood struts and knew they were rotten.

I walked toward the metal bridge, picking up my feet as the incline rose and the trail became treacherous with more rocks and ruts. The paved road was only a few yards away when I heard a low, broken moan of pain.

I paused. What the hell was that?

The sound came again, insistent, followed by a withered sob.

Is someone hurt? I wondered as I unwound a thin cord of my talent and cast it outward. I kept back, still in sight of the road, and trolled part of the gully, the footbridge, and the metal overpass. I didn't sense danger or violence, only odd blotches of fear and pain muddled together in ugly streaks of red and yellow.

I sensed nothing. 

"Hello?" I called, feeling foolish. Could it be an animal? I didn't sense any preternatural or human energy down there. Maybe all I had heard was the wind. I was tired enough to be hearing things. I just wanted to get home.

My call was answered by another splintered groan and the solid thump of something heavy moving in the gully's bottom. Swearing I went to the edge, where the rocks were rounded and wet from rainfall, tumbling into the poorly lit—and frankly smelly—creek below. I had my phone in hand and was ready to dial the authorities.

Then, something grabbed my leg and pulled.