Page 95 of Fangs with Benefits

‘Caught a cold,’ I lie. ‘Mostly over it today, though.’

‘Too bad.’ He frowns, then nods at the empty office. ‘So you heard about Elijah? No two week notice, just–’ Ryan snaps his fingers ‘–poof. Said he had an emergency back home and wouldn’t be returning. Left his recommendation for you to take his role instead.’

I exhale something like a laugh, but it’s mirthless. Even now, he kept his promise. I help him at work, I help him seem human, he helps me get a promotion. It seems like seasons have passed since we shook on that, since I cared about getting promoted here.

‘I agree with him,’ Ryan says. ‘You’ve really stepped up these past months, and your effort didn’t go unnoticed. New year the role is yours if you want it.’

I’m speechless, and queasy. I’ve never felt so certain that I don’t want something in my life, but I sort my lips into something like a smile. ‘Send the offer and I’ll let you know.’

‘Done.’ Ryan knocks on the door frame then strides away.

I lean against Elijah’s desk and look out into the office. Devi’s Christmas and Hanukkah decorations sway slightly beneath the air vents, Kenneth is bothering Devi at her desk, Devi’s smiling despite herself.

And Elijah is gone.

I hope you get what you want.

Exhaling a deep breath, I stand up straighter and head to my desk.

Chapter 34

Elijah

My mother’s estate outside London is as grand as I remember, made even more idyllic by the sheet of fresh snow covering every surface. I think of Molly’s face watching the snow fall outside her living-room window, wonder in her eyes.

When I walked in on Sunday, a duffel bag and a backpack in hand, my mother started like she’d seen a ghost. Maybe she had–I felt like one.

I’ve felt quite ghostly since leaving Molly’s apartment, unfinished business hanging over my head. Dylan was away on his leadership trip focusing on not turning one of his colleagues into a werewolf, so I thought it best not to bother him, instead leaving a note thanking him for his hospitality and friendship with a promise to call soon.

Mother embraced me before coddling me like a small child for many hours, insisting I drink from one of the human maids, then compelling her to bleed into a goblet for me when I refused.

Two days later now, Evangeline and Gregory have made their way home for an urgent family intervention poorly disguised as a reunion to welcome me back into the fold. Mother also sent out a broad invite to her closest supernatural friends from the last four centuries, gold-embossed invitations to a celebration for her dear Elijah.

It’s a lot.

Now my siblings and I are spread out across the drawing room, which is still furnished mostly as it was last I visited, only now with more furniture from the past decades, an eclectic mix of pieces and styles. Gregory stretches his long body over a pale blue settee, Evangeline in an orange side chair from the 1970s, and me deflated in a plush loveseat that must be new.

No light filters through the glass windows, middle of the night as it is, and I imagine Molly asleep in her bed, with only the cat for company. I debated bringing Gemma with me, but I fear she would have rebelled until reunited with her one true human love, Molly.

I get it.

Gregory didn’t use to be such an insufferable human, but I think that’s because he wasn’t very strong. He was curious and humble, bullied relentlessly as a lad, and being turned into a powerful immortal changed parts of his personality, and not for the better.

He is my brother, and I do believe family bonds are important, but he’s never shied away from making known his distaste for my interest in humans. When I tell him where I’ve spent the last few months, where Jellie looks sad for me, pitying, Gregory bellows a laugh that’s probably audible in the next town.

‘Why would you wish to work among them?’ Gregory asks. ‘All you had to do to access your funds was come home.’

‘I was behind on the times,’ I tell him.

‘I’m surprised you relinquished your manor house to the state instead of compelling your way into another hundred years of solitude,’ he adds.

Of course, I’d considered staying where I’d been, but part of me knew I wanted a change. Needed one. It was past time to start moving on, and keeping the manor would be too much of a temptation to fall back on when things inevitably got difficult. Like now, for instance.

‘What did you learn about modern humans, then? Were you put off by their vanities and anxieties, the way they live and die by the words on their screens, the scrolling and scrolling?’ he asks.

I’m astounded at the reductive observation, the one missing so much of the innovation, thoughtfulness, and magic of humanity.

‘You’ve grown even more cynical in your old age,’ I tell him.