Aidan has been warned about the dangers of being with a human. His people live on the edges of society, in the shadows and alleys. And one day, if he's willing to submit to the birthright ceremony, he'll lead the next generation to continued wealth...
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My phone is ringing, which matches the ringing in my head. I crack open an eye and see an empty bottle of schnapps on my nightstand, and my bottle of pills is open. Was I drinking last night? When I turn over, my whole body is stiff and sore. The ringing hasn't stopped.
Rolling over, I fumble for my phone on the nightstand and squint at the call display. The police? What day is it? I rub my eyes and try to make sense of my life. It feels like I lost time. The bottle of schnapps coupled with my pills would account for that, maybe, but the ringing in my ears is the same as after an overly loud concert, not a night of binge drinking alone.
"Hello?" I mumble into the phone once I answer.
"Emmerson Pollock?"
"Yes," I say.
The officer on the other end of the line lets out a sigh. "It's Sherriff Shoreditch. Were you working at the Millick gas station at the edge of town tonight?"
I blink and stare into the darkness from my bed. When I look down, I realize I'm wearing the same clothes as earlier today. Did I skip work to drink? It's been years since I've fucked up this badly.
"Um," I say, unable to form a coherent thought. "I'm not sure? I'm feeling a bit disoriented."
There's a long pause on the other end of the phoneline. "What's the last thing you remember?"
I rub my forehead and try to gather my thoughts. "No, I—I went to work." Half formed thoughts are on the edges of my consciousness, but I can't quite grasp them. "Is everything... Is everything alright?"
"There's been a gas explosion at the station. Quite a mess. You were gone by then?"
"Um, I guess?" I swallow the cotton balls in my throat. A gas explosion? I lift the collar of my shirt to my nose, and I suck in a sharp breath. "Did I do it?"
"No!" Sherriff Shoreditch chuckles. "Faulty pipe. No one's fault, but we were concerned you might have been caught in the crossfire. Glad we were able to touch base."
"Oh," I say, and I run my hand along the top of my head, drawing my elastic out of my hair. I don't normally sleep with my hair up. "Will I need a new job?"
"I suspect so, yes," he says. "That station won't be functioning for quite a while."
Jobs weren't hard to come by in Cape Beatrice, but I'd liked working at the remote gas station at the edge of town. The owner had worried I'd be nervous with the isolation and late hours, but it had given me the perfect chance to stay on top of my schoolwork, and I'd never felt unsafe. In fact, there'd always been this strange sense that someone was watching over me. Weird, but true.
Now the gas station was destroyed.
"The things is," I hedge, "I don't remember much about tonight."
"How about I pop over there in the morning and we can have a chat?" Sherriff Shoreditch says. "See if we can clear up your recollections?"
