job. In addition, she had watched the men she worked with get married and then divorce more times than she cared to. The hours and the stress of the job did not make a marriage easy. In her mind, it didn’t make you available enough to be a good parent either. Long ago, she accepted that marriage was not in the cards for her. It was easier deciding to be happy with the life she did have: a good job, a few good friends, a boyfriend here or there who was willing to just be a boyfriend and nothing more.
Although Sydney loved kids, she convinced herself that she would never have any of her own. So, she devoted much of her spare time and money to a local, after school center. Every week she would spend a few hours at the center, talking with the kids, playing games, and doing crafts. She wasn’t the only one who was alone...these kids needed her. The fact was that many of the city’s kids were raising themselves. Their parents never made it to the PTO meetings or teacher conferences. Whether they were too busy working or missing entirely, it didn’t matter. The result was the same: kids alone on the street after school. The center gave them something constructive to do...they played, they learned, they cared.
Sydney cared about them too. She knew she was lucky to have been raised by loving parents in a middle class home where chocolate chip cookies and encouragement were plentiful. Sydney may not ever have kids of her own, but she had the know how to help other kids. She knew how to teach a group of girls to bake a cake, do their algebra homework, learn about science, sing a song, or paint a picture. Her mom was an artist so creativity was valued in her house. Sydney wanted these kids to have every experience she was allowed to have, even if at the end of the day the cold streets awaited them. These kids deserved to know about the wonderful activities that could fill their young lives instead of gang banging, prostitution, and drugs.
Sydney wanted girls and boys to grow up educated, strong, and empowered. Also, her mother always taught her that giving back fills the soul; volunteering was the greatest gift you can give to yourself and others. Sydney knew she wasn’t a saint, but she still gave as much of herself as she could. At the end of the day, the kids filled her soul with hope and love; two things that she very much needed.
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After spending a few hours at the center, Sydney knew she needed to get back to the station....to Kade. It was still light outside. She wondered where he was sleeping. Did he even sleep? Did he go out during the day? She knew much more about werewolves, both the good and the bad, than she knew about vampires. She got the fact they drank blood, but other than that, she tried not to hang out with vampires to find out the details of their habits. She did have a sense of self-preservation.
As she buckled up, her cell phone buzzed with a text from the station. Fuck . Another dead girl had been found. She hated the evil that lurked within humans and paranormals. Why did they kill? Power, hate, passion, mental illness? There were many reasons, none of them good. Sydney didn’t even care anymore. She was growing tired of the death. Sure, she would try to understand motive to the extent that it would help her find the perpetrator and lock them away forever, but aside from self-defense, there was never a justified murder.
The girl was found in Elfreth’s Alley in Olde City. Benjamin Franklin had once walked these streets. America’s founding fathers had come together in this very place, creating documents that would give birth to American democracy. History was everywhere: cobblestone streets, Independence Hall, the Betsy Ross House.
Elfreth’s Alley was a historic site named after an eighteenth century blacksmith. Its cobblestone alley was lined with renovated row homes that proudly displayed the preserved eighteenth century, working class homes that remained. The country’s past,