They think she’s a superhero. She thinks they’re delusional.
I thought I knew who I was; translator for the President of the United States, adopted daughter of a dryad, and a supernatural with the ability to manipulate reality through colors. Then I met an angel—an Arc warrior of the Triari Host—and everything began to change. Women are disappearing, strange Supes are running rampant in D.C., a sexy Demon prince is stalking me, and it seems as if everyone is after my blood. I don’t know who I am anymore, but I know who I’m not; I’m not a damn superhero. No matter what anyone says.