So, how does one end a night already fraught with disappointment? Why, with a smashed out back windshield, dented up front hood, and the early morning hours spent filing a police report.

I never should have left the Agency. I should have just bunked down in one of the escort rooms with my son, and let his father sweat out where we were until morning. Serve him right not coming with us, anyway if he had to worry just a little.

Of course, though, I wanted to go home, get my son tucked into his bed and take a long bubble bath to ease away the tension that I can feel knotting across my shoulders. I shouldn't be so angry, but I was, no, I still am. Damn it, his ignoring tonight hurt.

But, I'm getting off subject, really.

I was driving home from the Agency, but was detoured because the Square was completely slammed with partying bodies all decked out in costumes. So, I head along the smaller roads, and my luck, my GPS is still sitting on the workbench with the guys in transportation who were supposed to be getting it upgraded for me. So, after dodging demons, witches, zombies, and other creatures of the night, I ended up lost.

Stoplight found me trying to get my bearings with a real map that I luckily have stashed in the glove box at all times. I never even saw them coming. One minute I'm reading the map, following the dark line to get an idea of where I ended up, and the next, I hear a loud thud against the hood of the Cherokee. I was startled, my foot tightened down on the brake, and I saw the man looking at me. It was while he had my attention, his palm flush against the front windshield that another man had come up behind. The smash was sudden, and it woke Malachai. The poor baby started screaming, and when he did that, I snapped out of whatever it was I'd been in, and gunned the Cherokee and was out of there.

I don't know if I hit the guy at the front, and I honestly don't care. I just wanted to get my son home. I sped the entire way here, and once I did, I threw the Cherokee in park, and climbed into the backseat with 'Chai. Unbuckling him from his seat, I checked him over, as much as I could in the dim light of the overhead, and then hugged my son tightly to my chest.

It took me a bit before I was calm enough to get out, grab out things and head up to the house so I could call the police. One of the neighbor girls was sweet enough to take Malachai into his room while I spoke with the officers. The Cherokee was in rough shape, but I know the insurance company will pay to get it fixed up, while giving me a rental to use in the meantime.

Malachai's a trooper. After the police left, and we were all alone in the house, he tugged me to follow, and we ended up snuggling in bed. I dozed off a few times, but every car door that slammed outside woke me.

Sometimes I truly do hate living in New York.