CHAPTER 4 — The Broker

Irene expected voicemail. Or someone asking for her credit card number. Instead, the line clicked after the second ring.

"Good evening."

The voice belonged to a woman.

Irene suddenly realized she'd spent so much time deciding whether to call that she'd never planned what she'd say if someone actually answered.

"...Hi." She cleared her throat. "I'm calling about the letter."

"Your name?"

"Irene Potter."

There was a soft tapping of keys on the other end.

"Thank you. One moment."

Then silence, the kind that suggested somebody was checking a file.

The woman returned.

"Thank you for your interest, Miss Potter. A representative will contact you within seventy-two hours."

"...That's it?"

"That is all."

"I don't even know what I'm applying for."

"If selected, you will receive further information."

"Can I ask who's hiring?"

"I'm afraid not."

The line disconnected before Irene could think of another question.

She lowered the phone and stared at it.

"Well..."

Mr. Mustard blinked.

Two days later, at exactly 10:12 in the morning, Irene's phone rang.

The woman on the line introduced herself only as Celeste. She said she was calling regarding Irene Potter's inquiry, gave her the name of a café downtown, a meeting time, and one instruction.

"Come alone."

Then she hung up. No small talk and definitely no "Have a nice day."  

When the day came, Irene arrived at the café. It was quieter than the one she worked at, tucked away from the usual rush, with only a handful of customers scattered around the room. 

It was more polished, too. Nobody was tapping away on laptops. Nobody was trying to hold a loud business meeting over cappuccinos. Even the music seemed calm.

Irene was five minutes early, and a woman near the window looked up the moment she walked in. She was in her mid-forties, maybe, in a perfectly tailored navy suit. Her dark hair pinned neatly back.

A cup of coffee sat untouched in front of her.

She stood.

"Irene Potter?"

"Yes."

"I'm Celeste."

They shook hands.

Celeste's grip was firm. "Please." She gestured toward the empty chair across from her.

Irene sat. A leather folder rested on the table between them. Still, there was no company logo, and no paperwork sticking out. Just a plain black folder.

Celeste crossed her hands. "Thank you for coming."

"I almost didn't."

"I expected as much."

A server appeared.

Irene ordered the cheapest coffee on the menu without looking.

Celeste didn't touch hers. She hadn't when Irene walked in. She still hadn't by the time the server left.

"I'll get straight to the point," she said.

"I'd appreciate that."

"This meeting is a screening."

"For?"

"I represent a client with specific requirements."

"What kind of client?"

"The kind who hires me."

That answer managed to explain absolutely nothing.

"You were identified as a potential candidate through our preliminary research. My role today is to verify whether the information we have is accurate before determining whether you move to the next stage."

Irene leaned back slightly. "What kind of research?"

"Relevant research."

"I’m sorry, Celeste, but just one quick question…how did you get my name?"

"The same way we acquired everyone else's."

"And my address?"

Celeste held her gaze. "That isn't relevant at this stage."

Irene exhaled through her nose.

"I don't like that answer."

"I understand."

"No, I don't think you do."

"I assure you I do, Miss Potter."

The server returned with Irene's coffee. It gave both women an excuse to stop staring at each other.

Celeste opened the folder. A neatly printed questionnaire waited inside. She uncapped a fountain pen.

"Please answer these questions with absolute honesty. Do you smoke?"

"No."

"Drink?"

"Rarely."

"Recreational drugs?"

"No."

"Prescription medications?"

"No."

Celeste made a neat checkmark beside each answer.

"Criminal record?"

"No."

"Current romantic relationship?"

Irene paused and then shook her head. "No."

"When was your last relationship?"

"About four years ago."

"Length?"

"A few months."

"Ended by whom?"

Irene frowned. "...Mutual enough."

"Sexual relationship?"

"It wasn't serious."

"That wasn't my question, Miss Potter."

Irene looked down at her coffee. "It was..."

"How frequently?"

Irene looked back up. "I'm sorry, what?"

"How frequently were you sexually active during that relationship?"

"Is there any specific reason for this question?" Irene asked.

"There is."

"But I don't get to know it?"

"Not today."

Irene sighed. "It wasn't... often."

Celeste wrote something down. Then she turned the page. "Current sexual activity."

Irene blinked. "I don't have one."

"How frequently?"

"I literally just said I don't have one."

"To clarify."

"There isn't anything to clarify."

Celeste looked up from her notes. "So you are currently abstinent."

"I don't think anyone's ever made it sound that official."

"I'm simply recording facts."

Irene rubbed the side of her forehead. "I work three jobs."

"I have that noted."

"I leave home before sunrise."

"Also noted."

"I get home around midnight. When exactly am I supposed to be finding the energy to have a sex life?"

For the first time since the meeting began, something almost human flickered across Celeste's face which was close to amusement.

"So your answer is... none."

"My answer is I'm tired."

Celeste made another note.

"Have you ever had any intimate relationship outside your previous partner?"

"No."

"No casual partners?"

"No."

"No ongoing arrangements?"

"No."

"No one-night encounters?"

"No."

Celeste paused. "Just the one relationship. And no sexual activity since."

"No." Irene took a sip of coffee. It had already cooled. "I feel like I'm accidentally applying to become a nun."

"You aren't."

"I was hoping you might say I was."

"I'm afraid not." Celeste turned another page. "Do you have any known connection to Lycan communities?"

"No."

"Vampire communities?"

"No."

This time Celeste didn't write immediately. She simply watched Irene. Not in an intimidating way, but in the careful way someone watched for hesitation.

For rehearsed answers. For lies.

Irene met her gaze. 

"I work at a coffee shop and a convenience store. I've served vampires. So have most humans. I've served lycans too. Also, so have most humans. That's the extent of my connection."

Celeste finally wrote something. She looked satisfied. Or at least unconvinced Irene was lying.

"I've answered a lot of your questions," Irene said. "What exactly is this job?"

"I'll get there."

Irene folded her arms. "You people really enjoy mystery."

"No." Celeste capped her pen for a moment. "We enjoy thoroughness." Then she continued. "Any chronic illnesses?"

"No."

"Current health concerns?"

"None. Just...sleep-deprived... if that counts."

Celeste waited. "And?"

"My doctor says I'm vitamin D deficient."

"Anything else?"

"My feet hurt most days."

Celeste didn't write any of that down.

"You aren't recording those?" Irene asked.

"They're not relevant."

"Good to know my exhaustion finally isn't."

Celeste closed the questionnaire. For the first time since the meeting began, she reached deeper into the folder and withdrew a single photograph. Without a word, she slid it across the table.

It stopped directly in front of Irene.

It was a picture of a man. Late twenties, maybe. Or at least he looked it. He was in a dark suit and standing at what appeared to be a formal evening event. He wasn't looking at the camera. Someone had clearly taken the picture without his knowledge.

Even so, he was difficult to look away from. Pale skin. Silver hair. A jaw that looked carved rather than grown.

He stood perfectly still in the middle of what seemed to be a crowded room, and somehow everyone else felt blurred around him.

It was unfair, really. Some people won the genetic lottery. This man looked like he'd bought the company that ran it.

Irene caught herself staring. She immediately stopped. Then looked back down with considerably more professionalism. Like it was a driver's license. Or an employee ID. Or literally anything other than the face of an unreasonably attractive stranger.

There was a typed label beneath the photograph.

She read it once.

Lord Ares Valcieri.

Head of the Valcieri Coven.

Irene slowly lifted her eyes from the photograph.

Celeste was already watching her.