Fuck that.
“That I’m not what?” I ask.
His lips purse. “Human,” he says. “That you’re not human.”
Now the wolf in me is having a hard time keeping cool. That’s the thing about werewolves; we can be temperamental creatures.
I bite down on the alpha bitch inside me that wants to snap, and instead say, “Is that a problem, Mr. Humphrey?”
He is silent a tick too long, and part of me hates him for it. “That is what I’d like to know, Miss Beauregard,” he says. “If your…otherness is going to be a problem”
Otherness.
The word hits me in the gut, but one would not know it from my face.
“I don’t see why,” I say.
Mr. Humphrey sucks his teeth, then opens back up his laptop. I sit for a moment longer before taking that as my dismissal.
I’m almost out the door when he adds, “Miss Beauregard?”
I turn back to face him, and I wonder if he is smart enough to sense the predator behind my pretty face.
“Make sure that it’s not,” he says, and looks back at his screen.
I make my escape before I do something I’d later regret.
4 12:15 p.m.
“That Oompa Loompa motherfucker!” Lucy exclaims, biting into her cheesesteak with enough vigor for grease to run down her chin.
She talks around the food, looking like a chipmunk for the effort. “He’s got that little-man-syndrome thing—that, what’s it called? Napoleon Syndrome! I swear to the Gods.”
I glance at the tables around us, cringing a little at Lucy’s tone. I love her to death, but Lucy Tran is the kind of friend who ends up embarrassing you no matter where you are, and what situation you’re in. She’s just loud and socially oblivious like that.
She’s got long, black hair and creamy skin, her features revealing her Asian descent.
Also, she’s a fire demon.
And the only other supernatural that I know of in my office.
Around another enormous bite of food, she adds, “The nerve of that little gremlin. He has no reason to treat you any different.”
I sigh. “When have people needed a reason to mistreat those who are different from them?”
Lu shoves some fries into her already stuffed mouth. “Don’t make it right,” she grumbles.
Around us, the hospital cafeteria is beginning to fill up, the chatter loud enough to keep our conversation mostly private. Lucy and I work in the hospital’s IT department, the next building over from the one we’re currently in, and she’s the only person at work I consider a friend.
Lucy’s voice lowers as she leans forward over the table between us. “Man, when I saw that video, I damn near shit my pants for you,” she says. “I was like, welp, that cat is out of the bag. I gotta say, dude, I don’t envy you.”
I shake my head. “It sucks… I did that dude a favor by stopping that robber. Why turn the video over to the press?”
Lucy snorts. “People are assholes, man. Sometimes that’s all there is to it.”
Lazarus slithers out of her shirt pocket and perches on her shoulder. He’s Lucy’s familiar, a tiny dragon-like creature that is always with her, and can only be seen by those Lazarus wants to be seen by. I consider myself privileged to be on that short list.
Of course, as he slithers over to me, his red, barbed tail flicking happily behind him, and I share a fair chunk of my cheeseburger, I suspect his favor is because I’m always feeding the cute little bastard.
Laz gulps down my offering and flits back over to Lucy, who strokes the underside of his maw absentmindedly before he disappears back into her shirt pocket.
“Well, if the sonofabitch tries to fire you or something, you might have a lawsuit on your hands,” Lucy says.
I sigh. I don’t want a lawsuit. I don’t want to deal with this at all. I want my secret to go back to being my secret.
“That Carver case isn’t even through the courts yet,” I say, referring to a civil rights for supernaturals case that was currently caught up in the US court system. The decision in that case would affect all of us who aren’t human, and with the way things were going, I didn’t have much hope for the immediate future.
“The arch of progress is long,” Lucy tells me, “but it bends toward justice.” She wags her eyebrows, clearly pleased with herself. “Martin Luther King said that.”
I chuckle. “Thanks for the history lesson.”
Lucy glances at her phone. “Uhhhghhh,” she groans. “I don’t want to go back to work. Let’s just run away together.”
A smile pulls up my lips despite the weight that seems to have fallen upon my shoulders since this day started. I gather my food tray and follow her to the trashcans and out the door of the cafeteria.
“Would if I could, Lu,” I say. “Would if I could.”
I may be a supernatural, a werewolf with superior senses, speed and strength, and with the ability to shift into my wolf form upon command, but these damn bills weren’t gonna pay themselves.
So whether I like it or not, I need this job. For a moment, I find it almost funny that certain humans despise us, when our problems are pretty much the same. I need a roof, food, and acceptance, same as they do.
Just get to 5:00 p.m., I tell myself. That’s all I gotta do.
5 1:15 p.m.
I’m sitting in my cubicle finalizing a monthly report when a figure appears outside my cube.
I don’t recognize the male, only that he’s white, balding and not overweight but not muscled, and wearing a suit. Those qualities alone likely qualify him for upper management.
“Hey,” he says, stepping into my workspace.
“Hey,” I reply.
He reaches into his pocket and withdraws his wallet. “The other execs and I missed lunch,” he says. “I need you to go find a sandwich tray or something, as quickly as you can.”
I don’t even know this fool’s name, and he’s in here trying to
