Bloodlines

The statement annoyed me. It sounded good, of course. It was the kind of thing people said all the time without really understanding the implications. Be yourself, fight the system! But people who said them - people like Adrian - hadn't lived my life. They hadn't grown up in a system of beliefs so rigid, it was like being imprisoned. They hadn't been forced to give up their ability to think for themselves or make their own choices. His words didn't just annoy me, I realized. They made me angry. They made me jealous.

I scoffed and threw out a comment worthy of him. "Should I add motivational speaker to your resume?"

"If the pay's right, I'm in. Oh." He straightened up. "I finally placed him. That Micah guy you're so worried about."

"Placed him?"

"Yeah. Why he looks so familiar. Micah's a dead ringer for Mason Ashford."

"Who?"

"A dhampir that went to St. Vladimir's. He dated Rose for a while." Adrian scoffed and rested his cheek against the glass. "Well, inasmuch as anyone ever dated her. She was crazy for Belikov, even then. Just like she was when we dated. Don't know if Ashford ever knew or if she was able to fool him the whole time. I hope so. Poor bastard."

I frowned. "Why do you say that?"

"He died. Well, was killed, I should say. Did you know about that? A bunch of them were captured by Strigoi last year. Rose and Castile made it out. Ashford didn't."

"No," I said, making a mental note to look into this. "I didn't. Eddie was there too?"

"Yup. Physically, at least. The Strigoi kept feeding off him, so he was useless for most of it. You want to talk about emotional damage? Look no further."

"Poor Eddie," I said. Suddenly, a lot about the dhampir was beginning to make sense to me.

We arrived at the first place, a law firm that was looking for an office assistant. The title sounded more glamorous than it really was and would probably involve a lot of the same errands Trey and I ran for Ms. Terwilliger. But out of the three positions I'd found, this one also had the most potential for future advancement.

The firm was obviously doing well, judging from the lobby we waited in. Orchids grew in giant, well-placed vases, and there was even a fountain in the middle of the room. Three others waited in the lobby with us. One was a very nicely dressed woman in her forties. Opposite her was a man about the same age, sitting with a much younger woman whose lowcut blouse would've gotten her thrown out of Amberwood. Each time I looked at her, I wanted to cover her cle**age up with a cardigan. The three of them obviously knew each other, however, because they kept making eye contact and trading glares. Adrian studied each of them in turn and then turned to me. "This law firm," he said in a low voice. "It specializes in divorce, doesn't it?"

"Yes," I said.

He nodded and took a few moments to process the information. Then, to my horror, he leaned over me and said to the older woman, "He was a fool, clearly. You're a stunning, classy woman. Just wait. He'll be sorry."

"Adrian!" I exclaimed.

The woman flinched in surprise but didn't look entirely offended. Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, the younger woman straightened up from where she'd been cuddling against the man.

"Sorry?" she demanded. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I willed the earth to swallow me up and save me. Fortunately, the next-best thing came when the receptionist called the threesome in to meet with a lawyer.

"Really?" I asked when they were gone. "Did you have to say that?"

"I speak my mind, Sage. Don't you believe in telling the truth?"

"Of course I do. But there's a time and place! Not with perfect strangers who are obviously in a bad situation."

"Whatever," he said, looking extremely pleased with himself. "I totally made that lady's day."

Just then, a woman in a black suit and very high heels emerged from an inner office. "I'm Janet McCade, the office manager," she said. She glanced between the two of us uncertainly, and then she decided on me. "You must be Adrian."

The name mistake was understandable, but the mix-up didn't bode well for him. My assessment of his clubbing outfit had been correct. My brown skirt and ivory blouse apparently seemed more appropriate for an interview.

"This is Adrian," I said, pointing. "I'm just his sister, here for moral support."

"Very kind of you," said Janet, looking a little perplexed. "Well, then. Shall we go talk, Adrian?"

"You bet," he said, standing. He started to follow her, and I jumped up.

"Adrian," I whispered, catching his sleeve. "You want to tell the truth? Do it in there. Do not embellish or make up crazy claims that you were a district attorney."

"Got it," he said. "This is going to be a breeze."

If by breeze he meant fast, then he was right. He emerged from the office door five minutes later.

"I don't suppose," I said, once we were in the car, "that she just gave you the job based on looks alone?"

Adrian had been staring off but now flashed me a big smile. "Why, Sage, you sweet talker."

"That's not what I meant! What happened?"

He shrugged. "I told the truth."

"Adrian!"

"I'm serious. She asked me what my greatest strength was. I said getting along with people."

"That's not bad," I admitted.

"Then she asked what my greatest weakness was. And I said, 'Where should I start?'"

"Adrian!"

"Stop saying my name like that. I told her the truth. By the time I was on the fourth one, she told me I could go."

I groaned and resisted the urge to beat my head on the steering wheel. "I should've coached you. That's a standard trick question. You're supposed to answer with things like 'I get too devoted to my work' or 'I'm a perfectionist.'"

He snorted and crossed his arms. "That's total bullshit. Who'd say something like that?"

"People who get jobs."

Since we had extra time now, I did my best to prep him with answers before the next interview. It was actually at Spencer's, and I'd gotten Trey to pull a few strings. While Adrian was interviewing in the back, I got a table and some coffee. Trey came to visit me after about fifteen minutes.

"Is that really your brother?" he demanded.

"Yes," I said, hoping I sounded convincing.

"When you said he was looking for a job, I pictured a male version of you. I figured he'd want to color code the cups or something."