Hours later, we were still talking. Well, mostly she talked, and I stuffed very tiny honey biscuits into my face like a starved cavewoman. (No sass here. Just crumbs. So many crumbs.)

Barbie—thirteen thousand freakin’ years old—sat on a branch like some ancient history professor in sequins and gave me the crash course of my nightmares.

She told me about the ASA—Anti-Supernatural Agency. Humans with labs, syringes, and no chill. People who kidnapped supernaturals, drained their ...