Mere Mortal

 

  Mere Mortal

  By Katie Roman

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  About the Author

  © 2014, Katie Roman

  Self publishing

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

 

  To Erin, you've been there since the very beginning

  And to Caroline & Jessica, who helped immensely in making this happen

  Cover art by Skylar Faith of True Not Dreams Designs (https://truenotdreams.weebly.com/)

  One

  I tried not to shake. I suppose it wouldn't matter. She probably already sensed my nervousness. I had never been truly afraid of the Others until I met Angie Winter. White blonde, tiny, yet imposing, with the same presence as a tiger on the loose. A big, scary, man-eating tiger. My name is Samantha Dunmore. I'm an adult. I shouldn't be afraid of things that go bump in the night.

  When Angie came into my office everything went cold. Her very presence was enough to suck the warmth from the room. An ice tiger on the prowl. I tried covertly to deep breathe, to keep my heartbeats even. She could probably hear my heart pounding away even though I smiled congenially. Her eyes strayed to my neck. I felt like she could see my pulsing veins beneath my turtleneck. I zipped up my hoodie as extra protection. Not that clothing could keep me safe if Angie decided to act. If she wanted me, she could easily take me.

  Her eyes locked with mine. They softened, drawing me into a sense of security. Her pupils dilated, overtaking the green of her irises until only black orbs were visible. She licked her lips in a sloppy way. I blinked and when her spell was broken I knew she had just been messing with me.

  “Stop that,” I ordered. I felt like a weak willed fool. My face flushed and my ears grew hot. I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed and puffed my annoyance. I gritted my teeth together, but refused to break eye contact. It was clear I was embarrassed, but I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing me cowed.

  I pulled her file from my desk. “Did you bring your consent forms?” I wanted to see her through our meeting and be done with her until next month.

  Without a word she bent down to pull a few papers from inside her motorcycle helmet. She threw them onto my desk, there were about ten pages. Ten people had given their permission. Ten. It boggled my mind. “And they're notarized, dearie,” she sneered, showing her teeth. I tried not to stare at them.

  I flashed an uncomfortable smile, letting her condescending remark slide. I checked the notary seal and signature. It looked good, nice and legal. Vampires had to bring their...dinner I guess...to one of the all night notaries in the area to get proof this wasn't simple violence. It was weird to me that ten people had agreed this month. Last month she had come in with an astounding twenty-five. Angie could have knocked me over with a feather when she handed over that stack.

  “It's all in order I guess.” I opened my desk again to retrieve my “CLEARED” stamp and ink pad. I eyed the cross next to my box of paper clips. I had been tempted to use it before, but I wasn't so sure that I had the faith to give it power. I grabbed the stamp and ink, slamming the drawer closed.

  “We 'Others' were surviving and doing things long before you human fools added your rules and bureaucracy.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but quickly changed my mind. “Please don't hassle me, Ms. Winter. I only work here.”

  “Can I go now?” Her tone was impatient, but her body was relaxed. She leaned back in her chair, exuding confidence and a devil may care attitude.

  I double checked all her documents before giving them my stamp of approval. The red letters marred each page, a deep red, the color of fresh blood. I made a mental note to get black ink.

  I blew softly on each page to help the ink dry faster. Angie Winter was now cleared to take the blood of these ten unfortunates for next month.

  In one fluid movement she was out of her chair. “Miss Dunmore.” I blinked and she was gone. I let a long stream of air escape through my lips. My office suddenly seemed cheerier. Even the empty desk opposite mine looked a little happier with Angie’s exit. Others, especially vampires, had this effect on places.

  I had studied social work in college and was a junior when the Others came out. I was recruited out of school to help keep track of their activity. It’s my job to register Others, newly turned or those who are just coming forward. Witches get licenses, werewolves get tagged, and vampires have to prove they're not taking blood from unwilling victims. All very bureaucratic, all very painless, also somewhat annoying.

  My job’s not so bad. I don't meet with too much resistance from clients. I generally only work with newly turned vampires, but I have a few that are older. I wasn't too afraid of vampires, excluding Angie. I knew if one followed me home he/she couldn’t enter my home without my permission. And generally if a vampire propositioned me a firm “no” from me stopped unwanted advances.

  I hadn’t had much preference to who my client base was. Others were each equally dangerous. Witches could summon demons and level curses. Vampires could break necks, bones, and drain bodies. And werewolves could sniff you out and maul you in your sleep. To avoid running afoul of anyone I just smiled and remained pleasant.

  I did have moments of doubt about my chosen profession. The empty desk across from mine had belonged to a young woman who was mauled last month. I sometimes stared at the computer monitor that collected dust and the empty desktop she once had family photos on. I shivered to think of her bloodied body being carried out of the parking lot during the full moon. It made me leery of werewolves, more than witches or vampires, even though I knew most had control over their animal instincts.

  After the incident my supervisor, Sean Benson, a gorgeous, funny, kind, intelligent, loyal, and did I mention hot, werewolf fell out of favor with most of the office. He never gave anyone a reason to dislike him, but anyone who didn’t work closely with him became leery. I continued my routine as normal, knowing he could smell my fear, but he was polite enough never to call me out on it.

  I stared fixedly at the empty desk across from me when Sean leaned into my office. His hair was an unmanageable golden brown hair. It fought hard against the product he used to tame it. He sported a constant five o'clock shadow. He looked good in his jeans and black t-shirt, a casual blazer adding just a touch of class. I could see his muscle underneath. I wanted to give them a poke to see if they were as rock-hard as I assumed. I could feel a bit of drool forming at the corner of my mouth as I took him in. He smiled at me. The effect was infectious and I returned his toothy sincere smile with a goofy lopsided one of my own.

  “Evening, Samantha,” he said, pushing himself away from the door to come into the office.

  There was something about the way he carried himself that made him irresistible. He was my supervisor and he was a werewolf. Both reasons he needed to stay off limits. Our office frowned on interoffice relationships, but there were no rules against fawning.

&
nbsp; I looked down at my old, faded pink hoodie and gray turtleneck and wondered how bad my hair looked in this bun that had been frizzed by the humidity from the afternoon's rain. I felt like a geek next to him, oh well. I’d rather have my neck covered up than have it savaged by Angie Winter.

  “Hi, Sean,” I said as he stood before my desk.

  “Was that Angie Winter?” I nodded, shuffling her notaries about. “I thought I heard a motorcycle peel out of the parking lot. I've heard she races it to get extra cash and victims. Must be something irresistible about a brooding vampire on a motorcycle. Mind if I have a seat?”

  “Go ahead.” I waved a hand to the empty seat across from me. The chairs in my office were low quality folding chairs. Hard, cold, uncomfortable. Our office had the budget for new computers, a coffee machine, paid lunches, but damned if us case workers didn’t have the worst chairs in existence. At least I had a swivel chair.

  “You look upset, Samantha.” He slid into the chair so recently occupied by Angie. His presence warmed the room that Angie had left so frigid. I dared to look up and he watched me carefully.

  “She has that effect on people,” I muttered, shuffling the notaries around.

  “She does have that brooding, undead, ‘I’m too good for you mortals,’ death stare down, doesn’t she?” He picked up Angie's papers. “Only ten? The other fifteen thought better this month?” He inspected them carefully. With each movement I catch a whiff of his cologne.

  He wore some sort of Old Spice and he always smelled vaguely of the outdoors. Like fresh cut grass or leaves newly fallen from the trees. I wondered if he smelled like wet dog after a shower. The very thought made him less threatening to me and I chuckled. Sean raised his eyes from the notaries. He cocked his head to one side, raising an eyebrow, searching my face for a clue to my sudden laughter.

  “People seem to be drawn to the whole vampire thing.” His eyes rolled back into his head, as if he searched for an answer written on his skull. “I don’t understand why it’s this romantic thing.”

  I cringed thinking about shacking up with a vampire. “I couldn't really say.”

  “And here I always thought people like dogs.” Sean laughed at his own attempt at a joke. I felt the corners of my own mouth turning upwards. I couldn’t help it. His good mood was like a plague that spread. He cracked his knuckles when he put the papers down again. “I didn't come in here to discuss the inner workings of a blood donor’s mind. I wanted to see if you would be willing to take on two newly turned vampires. Patrice won't touch them.”

  Patrice, a good friend and coworker, wouldn't go near newly touched vampires. She worked with everyone else with ease, but if a vampire was turned within the last five years she'd have none of them. She doesn't like the flash or arrogance.

  “I suppose I don't have a choice.”

  Sean smiled that disarming smile again. “Brent and Jose have full client loads and you still have a few openings. Besides, put a newly turned, untested vampire near Jose and he gets that crazy look and sharpens his desk leg into a stake.”

  “That happened once and if you’ll remember it was Angie he tried to stake, not a new turn. Who hasn't wanted to stake that woman?”

  Sean lowered his head to grab a tissue off my desk. Pretending to blow his nose I could see his shoulders shake from silent laughter. Obviously taking potshots at blood donors was okay, but making fun of vampire stakings was bad form. He straightened himself again. “They're a brother and sister by the name of Melvin and Jessica Klein.”

  “They live in an apartment complex in unincorporated Des Plaines.” Sean grabbed a pen off my desk and scribbled an address on my notepad. “Chin up.” He rose and winked. “Try not to mock them too much.”

  “I think you’re confusing my bedside manner with yours,” I said, typing the address into my computer for directions.

  He waved good-bye with his middle and index finger and left. I leaned back in my swivel chair. New turns were fine to me. They sometimes were a little arrogant, pretending they weren’t mortal days before. But on a whole they didn’t give me too much trouble.

  Two

  Everything started five years ago. The president and congress tried to change the immigration policy. The new stringent laws would force the US back to a more isolationist viewpoint, a pre-World War II U.S. The theory was we could focus on our crumbling economy and other internal issues. Most people didn’t see how this would help and there were protests, but the proposed policies angered some powerful werewolves.

  There was a large werewolf population who had been in the US for one or two generations and they brought family members and friends from Eastern Europe, Asia, and South America in droves. These packs owned businesses, managed to get workers' visas for their families, and staffed shops and warehouses with their kin. They reunited packs that had once been separated by oceans. Their secrets were relatively safe from human interference thanks to the enterprising nature of many alphas. Money moved a lot of it along and when you have a pack of thirty to forty sometimes even a hundred, bribe money was aplenty.

  The new laws would make it harder. The crack down on legal and illegal immigrants alike would be swift. There was no telling if it would even be passed into law, but that didn’t matter. It never had the chance to get off the ground.

  One full moon the president was hospitalized after being attacked by a large dog. His wounds healed quickly, but he continued to complain of cramps and the occasional fever. The next full moon our president transformed. He was a half-human beast, covered in fur, standing on hind paws like a dog's. His hands functioned as clumsy paws. He went crazy in the light of the full moon. All traits, as we soon learned, of a person bit by a werewolf. Had he been born into the role he'd be more wolf than man during the full moon. He'd also be more mentally stable during the change, having become accustomed to it in the womb. His transformation led Others, vampires, witches, and werewolves, to seemingly come out of nowhere.

  The radical werewolves revealed first, seeing as their actions had made their very real presence known. The older werewolf families who came out next, somewhat apologetic for the behavior of the radicals. These werewolves either were descended from the Native American tribes or had been in the US for four or more generations, families like my supervisor’s. Witches came next. They claimed Nikola Tesla and Alexander Fleming as their own, but strangely left Marie Curie untouched. Then the vampires under one hundred years old came out. These younger vampires attempted to breach the gap with humanity by raising rats and chickens and dogs to fill themselves. Other, older, vampires didn't deny their lose of humanity, but agreed to get consent from their victims first, just to keep trouble from coming down on their heads. The oldest vampires still kept quiet and they didn't pose any greater threat then they had before. They quietly drained blood and kept in shadows.

  And yet Angie had come forward. She was older than any other vampire client I had. No one really knew why she bothered, centuries of hiding meant her skills were honed. She could move undetected and untouched. I wasn't even sure how old she was. She once mentioned leaving Europe for the first time after the Reign of Terror in France. She was already a vampire at that point, but I had no references of her life before that point.

  There had been a good deal of resistance to the idea of Others being regulated. After the great coming out the idea was proposed that we needed to track them. Though, as Angie stated repeatedly, they had seen to their own affairs forever. The debate raged for a year before the Bureau of Supernatural Beings, or BSB for short, was formed. The debate still raged on what restraints should and should not be put on Others. How to try werewolves that go mad after being bitten, what sort of sentencing do you give a vampire who will live forever, what magic is okay for witches to use. Others fought their bonds and insisted one of their own sit at the head of the BSB. The compromise was a human had to head it as well. It'd been the only thing anyone really agreed on. Ella Herald, a vampire turned in the eighteen nineti
es, sits at the head with a retired FBI field agent, Robert Baxter.

  We sometimes had protesters outside our office building, but on a whole working for the BSB wasn’t bad. I wanted to go into social work and the BSB allowed me to do that and it was a government position so I had decent benefits. If I ever left I had amazing credentials to fall back on. Then, of course, there was the chance to work with Others, a fact my teenage self is very jealous of.