He didn’t sugar coat anything. “If I wanted it spotless, I could just wave my hands. Nobody trusts an organised chef. Sit.”
I did so, clutching the warm cup in my hands. “You know why this isn’t going to work out,” Bruno said. “Even if I wanted to hire you, when the parents found out, they’d riot. Especially if you kept pulling stunts like that.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“That’s part of the problem. It’s all an accident. But even your accidents are too hard to ignore. You transmutated forty-two gallons of liquid. There was no contamination as far as I could tell. I can’t risk having the board bombarded with complaints.”
“What if I only stay in the kitchen?”
He laced his thick fingers together in front of him on the table. “You know what this place is like. Sooner or later, it would get out that you’re in here. Having you cook for them is a bad idea.”
I looked down at my feet. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I’m sorry, Sophie. I just can’t risk it right now.”
I stood up and nodded. Yeah, I wanted a job, but I wouldn’t stoop to begging. Not when it was about my ancestry. It had chased me my entire life. “Thanks anyway.”
I walked out of the dining hall to find Max leaning against the sycamore that I’d hidden behind to get away from him the other night. The angle of the branches cast half of his face in shadow. He looked every bit the hunter.
“How was the interview?” he drawled. I wasn’t in the mood to play shifter games with him. Or to unpack how he’d found out I’d applied for a job in the kitchen.
Still too raw from the reminder of why I’d never be accepted, I walked right up to him and pressed the to-go cup into his chest. “I dare you to drink this.”
A ring of gold appeared slowly around his eyes. Never dare a shifter to do anything unless you’re willing to deal with the consequences.
“What do I get in return?” I’d expected him to react with hesitation like everybody else. Instead, he curled his fingers around the cup. They brushed mine for the brief second before I let go. I laced my hands behind my back as though singed.
The disappointment of not getting the job made me bold. “What do you want?”
For the briefest second, his whole iris became saturated in gold. They dimmed again so quickly I couldn’t be sure it had happened. “Lunch,” he said. “Every day for a week.”
“No way. I’m not going to turn into your personal chef.”
“Why not? You just applied for a job doing just that.”
I frowned. “There’s a difference between a paid job and being your servant.”
“I could pay you.”
He wasn’t even joking. The Thompsons were loaded. His father owned a security company that catered to both human and supernatural clients. Money would be no obstacle. “You know what? I don’t know what I was thinking. Give it back.”
I’d lost my mind and wanted so badly for somebody to see I wasn’t murderer spawn that I was about to get myself into trouble with a shifter. Max tightened his grip on the cup.
“You’re going to give up just like that?”
“Yes. I’m all about giving up.”
“You’re such a liar.”
Indignation flared up inside my chest. My mouth dropped open. “You don’t know anything about me.” The words were coated in bile. None of them knew anything about me. Max chuckled.
“Let’s see if we can do something about that.”
He brought the cup to his mouth. “No!” I said. I tried to swipe it out of his hands but he laid his palm on my shoulder and kept me at a distance. He wasn’t exerting any effort but I felt like I was fighting to move a mountain. Fed up with this whole day, I stopped struggling and whirled around.
“I added extra shifter blood in there,” I muttered. “I hope you like the taste of it.”
Maybe it was my imagination but I would swear I heard him laughing all the way back to my dorm.
10
The humiliation just wouldn’t end. I woke up the next day to an incoming call from Zambia. My parents’ encouraging expressions had the memory of last night slamming back. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I said. The last of my hair magic ran out around midnight. The top knot sprang loose just as I was preparing to crawl into bed. Now my tight curls were a tangled halo around my head. My only consolation was that after the day of manual labour, I slept like a log. I wasn’t sure why but I’d been so tired the last few nights.
“They don’t know what they’re missing out on,” Dad said. Mama was more militant.
“Bruno said what to you?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I groaned. “Can we please just drop it?” I wasn’t sure why they were getting all worked up. They were the ones who were adamant about me being here. Did they really think that time would change supernatural prejudices? Some of these kids would live for a long time. Their parents had probably been around when great-grandfather was in his prime. Nobody was going to get over this.
“I should complain to Jacqueline,” Mama said. “This is discrimination.”
“What’s your point?” Unlike in the mortal world, there was no political correctness with the supernaturals. They were a hodgepodge of races that had been at war with one another at some stage. They didn’t give a damn if they offended each other. And they sure as hell didn’t give a damn if they offended the low-magic community.
“Besides,” I said. “He’s right.”
“No he’s not!” Mama snapped.
“Yeah, he is. Even if he did give me a job, none of the kids will want to eat in the dining hall if they know I’m there behind the scenes cooking for them.”
“They just need to get used to the
