Page 9 of Feral

“Fine,” I ground out. “But she better deliver me someone who can fix this.”

Trey’s smile was tight.

“I’m sure she’ll find you the very best.”

Chapter Two

Daphne

Thesoftfabricofmy black jumper suspender skirt swished around my legs as I walked along the sidewalk on a beautifully brisk London morning. It may have been June but that didn’t seem to matter to the weather, which had been cool and wet most of the week. I tilted my face up and closed my eyes on a sigh. Even so, the sun was a deliciously warm contrast to the cool air and I wished I could sit outside all morning reading. But, alas, both my jobs required my attention and neither were the outdoors type.

I adjusted the strap of my tote, which was heavy with my latest research project about the sexual practices of Basilisks. It was extremely difficult to parse fact from fiction in this area, but I desperately needed to know if the artifact that had come in last week was indeed a Basilisk fertility pillow or just some odd cushion with lizards embroidered all over it.

Normally, this kind of mystery would dominate my mind fully. I’d go without sleep or meals as I tried to find the facts. But not today. Because today, at last, I would be offered a permanent position at Eden college. I was sure that was why the dean of the anthropology department wanted to speak with me. After all, I’d taken their lowest enrolled class and turned it into the most sought after course for two years running. Even though academia was not my passion, I had decided a long time ago that the only way I’d ever stop my family from lobbing verbal missiles of sneering judgment at me was to prove my worth as a professor. Or at the very least, get a research grant from a respectable university.

I would have much preferred to hunker down into my job with the Secret Archive, and expand the department, even organize artifact finding expeditions. Just the thought sent a thrill through my body. But I could never tell my family about my real passions, much less my job with the Archive. The most I could divulge was my cover story, which got more than a few sneers, snorts and eye rolls. I was the family joke, the one that everyone hoped no one asked about at faculty fundraisers. And if they did, I was talked about in hushed whispers as if I were some cautionary tale.

At least they’ve stopped commenting on my weight and how it’s keeping me from finding a husband.

I forced such thoughts away. No use going down that mine field in my psyche. Even if I’d worked hard to diffuse much of their comments and judgements about my weight over the years, there was always a few that liked to stick around and cause me pain. But not today! Today was going to be a good day! The best day!

“Professor Daphne Reynolds,” I dared to speak it out loud.

It had a delightful ring to it.

I practically skipped the last half block to the headquarters of the Secret Archive, which was hidden within a very old building that appeared to be merely a branch of the restoration department of the museum. Most of the offices were above ground, but the warehouse was below. There were five sub basements, each divided into different departments depending on the types of artifacts housed there.

“Good morning, Nigel,” I said to the security guard.

He was glamoured so that he looked like any other rather dumpy security guard when, in reality, he was a seven and half foot tall Orc with green skin stretched over muscles that were as big as my head in some places. Like a lot of Orcs, Nigel was quite the foodie, having the extremely sensitive and refined palette of his species. The few times he’s invited me out for wine tasting or the opening of a new restaurant, it has been quite the experience. I don’t think I’ll ever drink a merlot again without wondering if Nigel would be able to pick out whether or not there had been basil growing nearby or if there had been a light frost that year.

“Morning, Daphne,” he grinned at me, revealing dazzling white teeth. “You seem happy.”

“I am. It stopped raining.”

Nigel chuckled.

“That it did. Oh, your assistant, what’s his name…Reggie?”

My smile faltered.

“Yes?”

“He’s waiting for you in the receiving room, something about a new shipment.”

“Oh, bollocks!”

Nigel snorted at me, with my American accent, using distinctly British slang, but let’s be honest, they have the best terms.

“I’ve got to get to him before he does something stupid,” I said, running inside.

The last time I’d left Reggie alone with a crate of new artifacts he’d held a bauble from a Dionysian temple up to the light and everyone within a twelve-foot radius almost ended up in an orgy.

The initial lobby that was open to the public was filled with my coworkers manning the front desks, meeting contacts or ordering from the cart. It was still somewhat strange to see the abundance of smiles and happy conversation. It wasn’t that long ago that everyone was too afraid of being killed or experimented on to do much more than keep their heads down and work. Though their glamours were firmly in place, I recognized more than a few supernaturals, which was also new. Everything about it lightened my spirits. Perhaps the promises of Director Dearborne were true, and this really was a new day for the Archive.

The previous director, Francesca, had been lacking in both conscience and any regard whatsoever for her agents. Her only aim was power, at any cost. She’d killed or tortured those that stepped out of line and did horrifying experiments on others. I’d heard the rumors, of course. That was half the point. Step out of line and you’ll be sent to the Lab.

But that was then. Now, things are different and I hope to god they stay that way.

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