Change is sweeping through the world, as humanity fights for autonomy, discord tears apart the foundations of the vampire order, and dhampirs return to the world after centuries of war between two powerful peoples. Dhampirs, creatures known to heral...
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"Tara!" Matt called over to her.
Tara lifted her face from her computer and considered throwing her coffee at him. When the top reporter for their tiny news company ever had something to say to her, it was a prank, an insult, or a job. Of course those jobs were always the less desirables of the news world, small stories or ones where she got dirty or sexually assaulted if she walked on the wrong side of the street.
It had been her passion to report things since she was a girl. Since her mother had been ailing and unable to go outside, Tara had been driven to bring the world to her. She'd always run around with a pad and pencil to report on the neighborhood, and when her mother smiled at her stories, that had been the best feeling. That had stemmed a passion in her to paint the world for those unable to see. Those trapped.
If anyone had told her that straight out of journalism school they'd just bully the shit out of her, she might have reconsidered. What was her dream was a joke to these people; it was a nice fat paycheck, a small amount of fame for their area, nothing worth being such a dick over.
"What?" Tara spat, slamming her laptop shut to leer at Matt, only to suck it all back in as their news director frowned at her. Of course Matt was standing right next to the frigid bitch, all shiny chestnut hair, green eyes, and dimples you could scoop ice cream into. With a long drag of her coffee, like it would somehow turn into crack or something, Tara stood up and headed over to the pair from hell.
Mrs. Reynolds, as she like to be called, was the off-screen organizer of everything Levi Valley News did. That was good because she wasn't attracting anyone with that tight bun of dirt-dyed frizz she called hair, the wrinkles around her eyes that made her appear constantly angry, or that nasty navy skirt suit from god knows when. Mrs. Reynolds had not aged well, not from all the perming when she used to be the top reporter or all the tightened faked smiles for her jobs. After she'd retired form field work, her body had just sagged from the exhaustion.
Hopefully that wasn't where she was headed.
"Like I was saying, isn't she just perfect?" Mr. Dimples said to their overlord, and Tara knew that face. The woman had come to him with a job he didn't want, and Tara was always the go-to goat.
"Can you put on a face?" Mrs. Reynolds asked.
Tara took a deep breath and composed herself into a pleasant work smile. Any job she could do might lead to something better, so she took them all.
"It's been pretty dry lately, so anything you want to throw my way, I will happily take." Tara gave her best appearance of excitement, but her boss was doubtful as she fingered through some folders and handed it to her.
"Talk to Matt about the arrangements and don't be late. This is a huge opportunity for us, and if you mess it up, you can kiss your job goodbye."
So it was that type of job. Tara accepted the folder and lifted her eyes scathingly to Matt as she left. The asshole didn't want to mess this one up and lose his job?
