Page 7 of Bitten Shifter

Pure humans, vampires, and magic users aren’t as rigidly separated as the shifters. The borders exist, but they are far from the military-grade fortresses the shifters have erected.

The tightly controlled Human Sector is in the centre of the country.

Below us, in the southeast, the vampires dominate the financial and political heart. Vampires, of course, are different. Their borders barely feel like boundaries. They want humans to visit—for dinner, if you catch my drift. Their sector borders feel more like invitations, with flashy buildings, vibrant nightclubs, and an entertainment culture designed to lure you in.

Magic users—mages, witches, and wizards—inhabit the southwest, where the air hums with latent power.

What everyone calls magic has a scientific explanation: it’s a form of energy manipulation.

Pure humans perceive only a narrow slice of reality. Their senses are limited—six million receptor sites in the nose compared to more than a hundred million in a dog. And that’s just smell.

Something unique in a magic user’s brain allows us to manipulate the invisible forces of the world, such as magnetic fields, dark matter, and the substructures of reality. In essence, we manipulate gravity, mass, and molecular vibrations, using what humans can’t see and what science has yet to fully understand to create incredible things.

As my vision wavers and exhaustion claws at me, I know I’m done for the day. I pull into the car park of a popular chain hotel.The sky is darkening, and I don’t want to be on the streets after nightfall.

A yawn cracks my jaw, and booking a room feels like a chore. I power up my laptop, clicking through the motions to avoid having to talk to anyone more than absolutely necessary. If I can walk in, flash my ID, and get a key without speaking, that’ll be perfect.

I don’t have the energy for small talk. Tonight, the entire world can get lost.

While waiting for the hotel’s booking system to update, I stare at the dusky sky, tapping my fingers on the keyboard’s edge.

This is it.

It’s time to put my shaky plan into action.

As a freelancer, I’ve worked with shifter businesses on and off for years. I’m not a superstar, but I’m good at my job, and people know I get things done.

Ten days ago, I received a job offer from the Shifter Ministry to help develop and implement a new defence system. It’s an incredible opportunity—a once-in-a-lifetime kind of role.

But I dismissed it immediately, certain Paul wouldn’t want me working for the shifters, let alone for their government.

I didn’t even tell Paul about the offer.

He has never been good with the other derivatives, and the contract would require relocation. Even if his record was squeaky clean, he wouldn’t have moved with me, no matter the prestige or benefits.

Paul won’t admit it, but I know him too well. It’s in his eyes, in the way he tenses when derivatives are mentioned. Like most pure humans, he is scared—scared of our differences, scared of our perceived weaknesses. That’s why we lived smack bang in the middle of the Human Sector, on a gated estate where everything was controlled and contained.

The real kicker?

Both Dove and Paul are members of Human First, an anti-supernatural group. Idiots.

The Ministry undoubtedly has them on a watch list. I always steered clear of their nonsense, favouring tolerance and common sense. My job requires the highest security clearance.

Poking the supes is asking for trouble. I told them countless times not to mess with them; some of the stronger vampires can read your thoughts.

I glance down at the email I’ve pulled up. It’s time to implement the first part of my plan. I never officially turned down the shifter job—life had been too hectic, especially with the big project I wrapped up today. Writing the rejection email was on my to-do list for tomorrow morning.

How fortuitous.

Now there’s nothing stopping me.

I’ve got nothing better to do, nowhere else to go, and it’s not like things can get any worse.

This job will give me more than a salary. It will give me a home, a fresh start, and an adventure. I rub the pale, empty skin of my ring finger, the absence of my wedding band achingly obvious.

It’s a chance to go somewhere the past can’t follow.

I read through the details of the offer again, the words blurring slightly in the dim light of the car and the harsh brightness of the screen. Then, quickly and decisively, I type out my acceptance, including the hotel’s address so they can send over the paperwork.

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