Page 50 of Grave Beginnings

“Hi,” I said, jumping up to offer my hand. “Your interviews are great so far. I appreciate how thorough you are.”

“Thanks,” Ezra said, ignoring my offered handshake, then turned back to Angel. “I’ll pull the feed. Tiana is with the Sarge, making a public statement.” He walked away, and I couldn’t help my frown, as his reception felt a little chilly. Wade caught up with him, the two of them talking as they crossed the wide bullpen area to another grouping of offices.

“Don’t mind him,” Angel said. “Ezra takes a bit to warm up to anyone.”

“Hmm,” I said quietly, sucking on the edge of my now empty coffee cup.

“There’s a full coffee station with food at the end of the hall,” Angel said.

“Yeah?” I perked up.

A smile tugged the edge of his lips as he got up. “Let me show you. Before you keel over from lack of caffeine.”

“We all have our drug of choice,” I said as I got up and followed him out. Back down the hall and to the left, a breakroom-type area with seating, a full coffee bar with a giant machine, and a long counter of condiments sat next to a hot case of wrapped sandwiches. “Ah, the sandwich stash,” I teased. “Angel’s secret hoard.”

“Not so secret,” Angel said. “It’s always well stocked. Have you used one of these coffee things before?”

I eyed the monstrosity. “Nope. We had black sludge at the last precinct.”

“You can go all the way down to the cafeteria, but not everyone likes to take that sort of time when they are on a case.” He stepped up to the machine, hit the digital display, and scrolled through a list of drinks. “You can pick style, flavor, sweetener and cream level, and—” he waved at the end of the counter where more condiments sat, “—add more. I usually go with a light roast and add my own stuff.” He hit the buttons to show me. “There’salso a regular pot on the end. It’s usually got French Roast in it. I’m not a fan.”

“Me either.” But I could drink any coffee for caffeine.

The coffee took a few minutes to brew, like a giant Keurig. I watched him build his drink and stepped up to scroll through the list and read the options. Wade wandered in and grabbed three sandwiches.

“You got a minute?” he asked Angel.

“Sure,” Angel said. The two stepped out of the breakroom. I hoped they weren’t talking about me. Wade hadn’t given me the stink eye like Ezra had. I really hated the idea of making enemies already.

I picked my coffee, going for a latte with an extra shot of espresso, vanilla cream, and butterscotch. As it brewed, another man—a little older, with dark hair and brown eyes—entered, his gaze landing on me, then falling to my arm. His eyes lit up.

“You must be Jude,” he said. He turned so I could see his band, which was a faded red. “I’m Merrill.”

“Oh!” I said, turning to offer him my hand. “Nice to meet you.” Our hands touched and his power snapped at me. I hissed and yanked my hand away. “Sorry about that. Don’t know why it does that.”

Merrill stared at his hand for a moment, then at me. “Everyone said you’re pretty new to variance.”

“I am. If that’s something I did… I’m not certain how to control it yet.”

He seemed to accept that and shrugged it off. “I’ll put together some notes. There aren’t a lot of public books about SV. Mostly, the higher-ups don’t want us to know unless we get shoved into the active military.”

“Seems counterintuitive if they want our help solving cases,” I said.

“We used to use a lot of spell work for that sort of thing. Now, it’s forbidden.”

“I thought Angel said that was because SVs used shifters as cannon fodder during the war? Maybe not using people in magic is a good thing.”

“Don’t take what the shifters say seriously. They are a very different sort of variance. It unravels their humanity all the way down to their soul, making their instincts animalistic and irrational.”

I gaped at him, the words feeling like a slap to anyone with a basic understanding of humanity in general. “Aren’t instincts key to survival? Like, built into our systems to keep us from jumping off high rises and stuff?”

“Yes, but the shifters are all about mating, slaughter, and dominance.”

Sounded a lot like humanity. Most animals—as I was a huge fan—really just wanted food, comfort, and safety. Dominance only arose when the other three things were in danger.

“You could request to change teams,” Merrill continued. “We’ll spend some time teaching you the ropes. It’s odd that they put you on a mostly shifter team.”

“You don’t have shifters on your team?” I asked. Though I had a feeling I knew why none of them would want to work with him.