"If I could have everyone's attention?" Lorna clapped her hands, provoking heads to pop up over the cubicle walls.
I hiked my best fake smile onto my face. After the final interview and the tour of the premises, I wanted to drain Lorna dry and dump her corpse into a gully. She was one of those vain women who enjoyed commanding the attention of men and grasping for more power. She was also a complete waste of oxygen, lacking any real intelligence.
Both types of women I despised on their own, though I could grudgingly respect the former. Combined, however, they formed a Lorna creature who was an offense to women in general and me in particular.
The air conditioning wafted the pine and musk scent of a werewolf over me, driving all thoughts of murder from my head. A werewolf in a white-collar office?
"This is Judith Belmonte," my new boss continued. She laid a hand on my shoulder, as if she spoke to children whose attention needed directing. I itched to break the appendage off at the wrist. "She will be replacing Mel at the end of the week as the new DBA group secretary. Mel, we will miss you so much. Why don't you all come out and introduce yourselves?" She removed her hand.
The drones obeyed, approaching me with varying levels of sincerity. I shook hands, listened to names, and tried to sniff out the wolf.
"Jude, when it comes to work, werewolves like to do three things: lift, break, and protect." Daniel grinned at me over his bourbon.
"You forgot killing." I raised a brow. "And sex."
"Oh, the killing goes under breaking and protecting. You'll never find a wolf behind a desk. For the sex, well, we do that for free."
"Ben! Come meet your new coworker." Lorna's strident tones broke the memory and I added it to the list of reasons for causing her disappearance.
My nose told me immediately that the blond man approaching me was the office wolf. Not only was his job a surprise but so was his physicality.
Most wolves were large men or at least carried themselves as such. Large muscles and long strides. Beards were not uncommon. This clean shaven gentlemen in pressed khakis and a blue polo that brought out his eyes was delicately put together. His power, rising around him in an aura, kept him from being effeminate—but not by much.
I wondered what it would be like to trace the fine bones of his wrist with my tongue. My mouth watered.
As we shook hands, I was grateful I had mastered the ability to smell like a completely normal human being. Given that I was the only dhampir in existence, Ben wouldn't recognize my scent, but it was always better to blend in rather than be the weird, mystery object that stood out.
"Pleased to meet you," I said.
Ben grunted. His posture yelled boredom but his eyes screamed irritation. At least the werewolf bad attitude cliché lived, alive and well, within him.
"Well, everyone," Lorna said, "back to work!"
Ben rolled his eyes and walked away, allowing me to appreciate his well-shaped ass.
"You'll have to excuse Ben," Lorna whispered. "He's our resident werewolf. We are very diverse here."
Ben's shoulders tightened but he kept walking.
I smiled sweetly at her. "Is he? That must make things so easy for you, not having to yell for him. Someone once told me they have excellent hearing."
The blood drained from her face. A drone in a nearby cubicle made a choking sound. I looked back toward Ben, who had paused at his desk. He watched us with an unreadable expression.
"Uh, follow me," spluttered Lorna. "I'll show you the company kitchen."
She strode away but I paused long enough to give Ben the Office Wolf a wink before following.
#
The Romani first spread the legend of the dhampir. The details—how a woman could conceive a child with a vampire or what powers the child would have, if any—depended on the telling of the story. Yet, despite the stories and the number of people willing to claim their dads had fangs, dhampirs simply couldn't exist.
Newly risen vampires are more interested in blood than sex. Also, modern science proved that after a day or two, semen dies. Even if a baby vampire managed to control his blood lust, it very well may be too late to impregnate anyone.
However, my father was not easily dissuaded. After hearing the legend, he became entranced with the idea of making a dhampir. Perhaps it had something to do with losing his own children to plague.
He tried for over a century. Unfortunately, the new vampires kept eating their brides. He tried older vamps, even himself, but their seed was too dead. He tried dozens of potions and tinctures, which either didn't work or poisoned the drinker.
Then, he met a Romani witch who wanted to see the legend of the dhampir come alive, though her desires sprung from more devious sources. Like the rest of her people, she believed the dhampir could fight vampires. However, she knew a true dhampir had yet to be born. She wanted someone to fight the monsters and tried to use my father to do it.
Father wasn't stupid, though. He used that old woman to make a spell that allowed him to impregnate a girl who had just flowered into a woman. My mother became pregnant and, on a snowy night near Christmas, died giving birth to me. She was twelve.
As soon as it became obvious that I was a healthy baby, Father broke the witch's neck. He probably shouldn't have, as the spell never worked again. But Father didn't mind because he had me.
"What are you thinking about?" Stefan leaned against the kitchen counter, watching me wash dishes.
"My father," I replied. I had known Stefan since he became a vampire in Italy during the Renaissance. There was no point in hiding anything from him.
"Why?" He started folding the small pile of clean hand towels left lying on the counter. For as long as I had known him, Stefan never stood still.
"I always do around my birthday."
"Have you spoken to him?"
"Fuck no. He'd send one of his gangs of goons to kidnap me in a heartbeat."
"Gangs of goons?" He chuckled.
"Well, they are. I'd have to kill them all and Father would send more. Only, he'd be cross, so they wouldn't be the nice sort of goons." I set the last plate into the rack to dry. "I would have liked to have known my mother."
The humor faded from Stefan's brown eyes, replaced with sorrow. "I know. But, to be fair, she probably would have been terrified of you."
I sighed and pulled the plug in the sink. As I watched the suds swirl down the drain, I reflected on how most people feared me. Stefan was one of the rare few. And Daniel, of course. I grasped the locket hanging around my neck.
"May I?" Stefan held out his hand.
Taking off the necklace, I gave it to him. He cradled it in his large hands, admiring the way the light bounced off the curling gold leaves embossed on the surface.
"I remember giving this to you," he said, "right before I left with Marsilia." He popped it open. In it were two pictures. One, a painted portrait of Stefan dressed as an Italian aristocrat. The other, a black and white photo. I looked away.
"Only two men who've ever given a damn about me," I said, my voice catching on the last word.
The locket clicked as he closed it. He moved behind me and slipped the chain over my neck. "There is still hope for love, fragolina mia." He squeezed my shoulders.
"Your little strawberry?" I snorted. Turning, I crossed my arms over my chest. "You haven't called me that in a long time."
"It fits." He gestured at my curly red hair. "And seeing you tonight brings back those old memories."
"And are they good memories?"
"The best." He kissed me on the cheek.
Once, Stefan and I had been lovers. However, Marsilia eventually became a star too bright in his sky to blot out. When he joined her in exile, that ended any aspirations of romance. Soon after, my father took me away to England because he knew I would have tried to follow. I hated Stefan for a while but time often grants perspective. I forgave him and now could invite him into my home without wanting to twist his head off for breaking my heart.
"So you said you met a werewolf at your new job today." Stefan sat in a kitchen chair, tapping his hands on his thighs. "Describe him to me?"
"Tall."
"Naturally."
I rolled my eyes. "Blond hair. Blue eyes. He didn't have the brawn of your normal werewolf. Great ass, though. His name was Ben."
"Oh."
"Oh what? What is that look?"
"Ben Shaw has a reputation from what Mercy has told me."
"Mercy Hauptman? The Alpha's mate?"
"The one and the same. Apparently, Mr. Shaw doesn't care for women."
"He's gay?"
"No. That's not what I meant. He is what they call a misogynist. Perhaps that's changed since the last time Mercy spoke of it to me but I don't know. I don't see her as much as I once did. And she does not keep me apprised on pack matters." Now it was his turn to look away.
"Don't get maudlin." I walked up to him and laid my hands on his shoulders. "The last thing you need to do is be the fox in an Alpha werewolf's hen house. Consider it a blessing that her attention is elsewhere." Straightening, I moved to sit in the other chair. "Speaking of Alphas, what do you think of me introducing myself?"
"You mean tell him you're a dhampir?"
"Si. He has put himself over every supernatural creature in the area. It would be an offense to not let him know I'm here."
"I think not. Let it be enough that Marsilia knows of your presence and allows it, though she shows no interest in meeting you. Remember she hates your father."
"I should form a club. We can wear matching t-shirts. Why hasn't she told Adam about me, I wonder?"
He smirked. "Because it amuses her, I suspect." The smirk faded. "Adam is an honorable man and he has a tendency to collect outsiders. However, vampires and werewolves do not get along. He may be accepting of you in his territory but the rest of his pack—probably not. It's best if you remained in hiding. You should avoid being too friendly with Ben. I know you can pass yourself off as a normal human but, as you say, shit happens. One mistake and he'll know you're something different."
"He's handsome, Stefan, and I will admit that I find him attractive." I brushed my fingers over the locket. "But I think I'm done romancing werewolves."
"As long as you aren't done romancing entirely. Eternity is a long time to be alone."
"We don't even know if I am truly immortal."
"I think it's a safe bet. You haven't changed since the first day I met you, and that was centuries ago." He twisted in the chair and rested his elbows on the table. "Passing yourself off as human with a werewolf around will tax your strength. We need to form a menagerie for you."
I grimaced. Though my body functioned like a living person, I still needed blood at least twice a month to remain healthy. If I needed major healing, I would have to feed straight away.
The good part of that, though, was that I didn't need a large menagerie. Two people at the very least. That didn't mean I liked it, however. I never enjoyed being reminded I had fangs. Retractable fangs, granted, but they were there.
Father once used me as his weapon. A person with a vampire's mind control powers, strength, hearing, and speed but without a weakness to silver, sunlight, and thresholds? It was like heaven to a man who delighted in small wars. There was a time when he insisted I feed weekly to keep to my optimal strength.
"I'll take you to Seattle on the weekend," Stefan continued, ignoring my look of distaste. "I have a couple of contacts. We should find someone to bring back here for you. You have space for a roommate."
"I don't want a roommate, Stefan. If we find someone, then they'll have to get their own life and their own home. I can't turn anyone so I'm not about to support a fang hag."
He smiled. "Fang hag?"
"I heard the term somewhere once."
"Your vocabulary will always remain a source of amusement, Judith. Very well." He stood. "I'm sure there are plenty of young professionals willing to move to the Tri-Cities. I should go. It's late and you have work tomorrow. Why do you work? I know you have plenty of money, tucked away in secret accounts."
"I don't like being bored."
Stefan's eyes widened and he swept his hands out. "And we can never have you bored. You'll burn the mountains down just for something to do."
I snorted. "I'm not that bad."
"Sure you're not. Buona notte, Giuditta."
"Buona notte, Stefano."
With a brush of wind, he vanished.