One

Blair

I could feel much needed warmth seeping through my aching body from the central heating of the office building and I involuntarily let out a sigh of relief that quickly turned into a grimace as a bolt of pain seared through my bruised ribs like a knife slice.

I cringed and gritted my teeth, my hand coming to rest over my left side as I stifled a moan, breaths escaping my nostrils in small whistles as I struggled to breathe through the pain.

In, out …. In…out. I counted silently, making the breaths as shallow as possible so as not to jar my bruised ribs. Bit by bit, the pain receded and I sat as still as possible, dreading the next wave. Soon, I could feel my eyelids getting heavy, the warmth and sheer exhaustion that came from a lack of sleep taking over.

With a slight shake of my head, I fought it off and carefully straightened in the comfortable chair. Even though my body needed rest to speed up the healing process, I couldn't afford to fall asleep now. What kind of impression would that create in the eyes of my hopefully, would - be employers if they caught me nodding off?

To keep myself alert, I began reciting the periodic table in my head, along with their atomic numbers, an activity I'd practiced throughout my high school years and which now reminded me of my Chemistry teacher, Mrs. Rutherford. She had insisted every member of the class memorize all 118 elements and now, I could picture her stern expression as she listened to us chant it first thing each class. I’d thought it a waste of time then, not knowing how handy it would come in later in life.

The memory gave rise to nostalgia and sadness as I recalled how happy and naive 17 year old me had been, going through life filled with optimism that someday, she would escape the small town life and make it big in the city, live a glamorous life, find her mate and live happily ever after.

I'd achieved the first two. I had found a mate, the man of my dreams who I'd fallen head over heels in love with, and for a long while, I'd lived under the illusion that we were happy ever after.

Illusion. That word started another ache in my chest, and I pushed away that thought too, choosing to focus instead, on the present.

The present being that I was sitting in a pleasantly warm reception, my left arm in a sling, a face marked with bruises in different shades and stages of healing, with all my worldly possessions stuffed into the backpack sitting by my feet. Usually, my injuries would be completely healed in a few days, thanks to my wolf Trish, but not this time. I could barely feel her within me, weakened as she was by the effects of the cloaking spell I’d gotten from the witch back in New Orleans.

Trish was usually vocal about her opinions, a constant voice in my subconscious and I’d come to take her company for granted. It wasn’t until I could no longer feel her presence that for the first time since I turned fifteen, I felt truly alone.

“Ms. Gaines?” A voice floated into focus, muted and sounding like it was coming from the end of some tunnel. It distracted me from thoughts of my wolf, making me irritated.

“Ms. Gaines?” The voice carried a hint of urgency and was louder this time and I huffed. Who was this Gaines person and why the hell would she not just answer to her name so the rest of us could dream in peace?

Then, I felt a hand on my shoulder, shaking me gently. “Blair? Wake up.”

I snorted awake, my head snapping up from lolling against my neck. My eyes shot open and for a moment, I was disoriented from sleep. Blinking rapidly, I sat up when my gaze landed on the pretty redhead with the kindest brown eyes watching me anxiously. Sadie, the receptionist at GenPro, smiled when she noticed I’d woken up - shit, I must have nodded off mid-count. I sat up, flinching as the movement reminded me of my injuries.

Two things hit me at once. One; I was Ms. Gaines - that was the name I’d put on my resume and I’d better get myself in order. I needed this job and couldn’t afford to make them suspicious by not recognising my own damn name, even if it was just an alias.

And two… heat rose up to my cheeks as I recognised the woman standing just behind Sadie. Lucy Strand, one of the founders of this laboratory and one of the most intimidating and confident women I’d ever met.

I’d met her for the first time last week when I’d decided to take a chance and summoned up enough courage to walk into the elegant reception of GenPro in the vain hope of finding a job. Then, my face had been red and swollen, and my left arm was in a cast, and I’d been limping, favoring my right leg. With my body painfully thin from malnourishment, I looked like I’d survived a war. It was not a pretty sight, and Sadie, bless her heart, had mistaken me for a hobo.

She’d kindly offered an apologetic explanation about how I was not allowed to be there, and had recommended some places that were taking in charity cases. When I’d pulled out my resume instead and told her I was in search of a job…any job… she’d looked like she would burst into tears as she told me that she was sorry, but they weren’t currently hiring.

“Please,” It had been a struggle to dam the tears that welled up in my eyes. “I’ll do anything, I can clean and fetch and carry…I just need anything. Please?”

The desperation in my voice had gotten through and she'd taken the resume, saying she'd see what she could do before disappearing past glass double doors into the depths of the building.

Ten minutes later, she’d come back and one look at her face had sent my hopes plummeting to the depths of despair.

"I'm sorry," her voice had been filled with regret and pity as she came to stand beside me, holding out the resume. "I just spoke with our head of operations and there's no vacancies at the moment."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak for fear that I would just straight up start bawling my eyes out. I struggled to get my emotions under control, the fact that the $25 in my pocket and bacon sandwich in my backpack were the only things I had left wasn't helping much.

“Thank you for trying.” I finally managed to say in a whisper, slinging my bag onto my good shoulder. I turned to leave, my steps heavy as I made my way to the door.

“Will you be alright?” Her voice stopped me in my tracks and I turned around to see her looking all concerned. She came towards me, her gaze sweeping over my face and without her saying a word, I knew what was going through her mind as she took in my condition. “Is there somewhere you… I mean…there’s places that can help out…”

Color flooded my cheeks and I took a step back, wanting to get away as fast as possible.

“I’m okay.” I said, repeating the mantra I’d uttered several times over the years to convince myself and the people around me that I was indeed, not in need of any help. “It’s not what you think, I just had a really bad fall down some steep steps, and the doctor said it will take a few weeks to heal properly.” The lie slipped easily from my lips and I continued backing away until I was at the door.

“Oh.” She looked doubtful but mercifully let the matter drop. “I’m sorry we couldn’t offer you anything.”

I was prepared to leave, to where I had no idea, but that was when Lucy had walked up to me, her red heels clicking on the floor in a quick rhythm. With a white lab coat over what looked like a perfectly tailored green dress, expertly styled hair and piercing eyes that seemed to bore into a person’s innermost depths, Lucy Strand commanded attention in an effortless way.

With shrewd eyes that missed very little, she regarded me for a few seconds, and I knew she missed nothing. Something had flashed in her eyes for a second, but was gone before I could identify what it meant.

“You’re Blair Gaines?” Her words came out with an upper class Boston accent, clipped and precise. I stared at her, recognising the suit as a custom made piece by McLaurel, an exclusive designer whose price tag ran in the thousands of dollars.

Her entire demeanor was so controlled, that I couldn’t help wondering if Ms. Strand was a Lore being like me. If Trish were active, I would be able to tell by her scent or aura. Witches, shifters, vampires or demons all had a unique scent that helped other supernaturals identify themselves. Right now, all I could smell were traces of her perfume.

Then I snapped back, flushing when I realized she was staring at me expectantly, waiting for me to acknowledge my identity.

“Yes,”

“I’m Lucy Strand, director of operations. I apologize for the somewhat abrupt notice, but are you prepared for an interview?”

“Like right now?” I was taken aback. Hadn’t Sadie said they weren’t hiring? Still, I quickly nodded. “Yes, I’m ready.”

Approval flashed in her eyes. “Come with me. Sadie, get her a visitor’s pass and have someone send up some coffee and snacks.”