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Two days later, Ella licked the remnants of frozen yogurt from her spoon and headed for the vending machines in the center of the office. She’d finished the paperwork on Mr. Knight for Otherworld and started reviewing the case notes on Christa Morehouse. According to the police interviews, until the last night of her life Ms. Morehouse had been a quiet tenant whom no one had either gotten to know or cared about. Of course, that was pretty typical of big city living, and meant nothing.

The reports coming back from Humboldt showed a diligent professor of English respected by her students and her fellow staff members, none of whom could remember her ever drinking or partying to excess. She frowned as she approached the water cooler. Why exactly had Christa rented the apartment in the city? Had she wanted somewhere to let her hair down? Somewhere to meet men and misbehave before she went back to her exemplary life in Humboldt?

Speaking of misbehaving… Ella’s gaze came to rest on the broad shoulders of an unknown black-haired man who was studying the vending machines with deep suspicion. He wore a nice dark suit, white shirt and tie, which meant he was either a regular government employee, or some religious groupie that had inadvertently slipped through security. Male was probably a more appropriate word than man, because Ella could already tell there was something not quite human about him. As Ella approached, he turned more fully toward her, and she got her first good look at him. She sighed. He was way out of her league. With his pretty face, height and distinctive cheekbones he could have graced the cover on any magazine. Her appreciative gaze dropped to his broad chest—imagining him, preferably without his shirt on. She’d just bet he worked out.

“What’s up?” she asked as he continued to study her. He looked even more confused.

“I beg your pardon?” His Russian accent was as divine as his cheekbones, and she actually wanted to squeal a little. She gestured at the five-dollar bill in his hand and spoke very slowly. “Are you having trouble with the vending machine? Don’t they have those in your country?”

His sapphire-blue eyes narrowed. “Yes, they do, and you don’t need to worry about whether I can understand you. I spent four years at Harvard, so I speak American.”

“You do?” She flashed him her best smile. “Then I’ll leave you to it.”

His shoulders slumped. “Do I need change for the machine?”

Ella fished out a crumpled dollar bill from the pocket of her ripped jeans and put it in his hand. “Here you go. This one’s on me. Don’t ask me to recommend what’s good. They all taste like shit.”

He smiled and her hormones started singing the ‘Hallelujah Chorus.’

“Thanks. That’s very nice of you.” He spoke as though he was still feeling his way with the language. She had to wonder just how long it was since he’d last graced her country’s fair shores.

“I don’t do nice. I’m just trying to keep you moving along so that I can get some hot chocolate.”

“Then I’ll get out of your way.”

Ella waited while he punched some buttons, slid the dollar into the slot and bent to retrieve his plastic cup of hot watery goodness. His ass was nice too…

He straightened, then nodded to her. “Thanks again.”

“Your shields are very good.” In fact, they were exceptional, but he didn’t need to know that. “What branch of the SBLE are you in?”

He leaned one hip against the countertop and looked down at her. “Are you always this inquisitive?”

“Yeah, I find it cuts out the need for small talk. I’m not good at that.”

“I noticed. I’m glad you approve of my shields. I’ve been working hard on improving them.”

“Why’s that?” She got her hot chocolate and blew on the scummy brown surface. “Did they fail you?”

The irritated look he gave her was quite impressive. “That’s none of your business.”

“True.” She smiled sweetly at him. “If you want to make them even better, I’d focus on the center. You’re still a little thin there. I can see your anger building up and that’s never a good idea.” She turned back toward her office. “ Nice to meet you, and good luck with whatever it is you’re doing here.”

* * *

Vadim glared at the female as she sashayed away from him. How dare she criticize his shields? At first he’d taken her for some sort of junior intern. Her long blond braid, fresh face and unkempt clothes screamed college kid, but she had way too much confidence for that. In fact, she’d had way too much confidence period. She’d also caught him at a disadvantage, as he fumbled to remember how to speak English after five years back in Russia.

American teens tended to be more brash and confident than their European peers, but he had to assume she wasn’t a kid. Her quick assessment of the capability and weakness of his shields had been rude but dead on and hinted at hidden talents. If her magic was strong, it might explain why she was here despite her harmless exterior.

“Mr. Morosov?”

He turned to find the head of SBLE beckoning him from a doorway and, with a last glance over his shoulder, Vadim strolled toward him. Alexei was already sitting at the conference table, his long silver hair tied back at the nape of his neck, his interested gaze fixed on the whiteboard at the front of the room. Vadim took the seat beside him and focused his attention on Feehan. Unfortunately, due to the lack of real evidence, it didn’t take long to bring both him and Alexei up to speed.

Feehan sat down and looked hopefully at Vadim. “So, what do you think?”

“I think you have the makings of a serial killer here. However, we need to make absolutely certain he’s not human. Sometimes it can be hard to tell.”

“My empath is convinced the killer is from Otherworld.”

“But empaths can be wrong. We all know that. Especially empaths that are nearing their sell-by date.”

Feehan blanched. “I don’t think you should say that directly to Ella Walsh’s face.”

“Why not? She’s part of the team, isn’t she? She’s not infallible.”

“Well…”

He recognized the faint sheen of apprehension on Feehan’s face all too well. For some reason, empaths seemed to inspire fear in both human and Otherworld species. Due to his recent experiences, he couldn’t say that he was very keen on them himself. But he refused to show any fear. Empaths loved that. They fed off emotion after all.

“Where is your empath?” Vadim looked toward the door. “I’m quite happy to speak to her and get her opinion on the matter.”

Feehan fumbled with the papers on his desk. “I’m not sure if she is available. I intended to gather the whole team together tomorrow morning after you and your associate had settled in.”

What Feehan didn’t need to say was that he hadn’t expected Vadim and Alexei to step off the plane, and come straight into the office. His surprise at their appearance had been all too obvious.

“We’re happy to wait until tomorrow, aren’t we, Vadim?” Alexei looked across at Vadim, his pointed gaze telling him to shut up and play nice. “Perhaps you could have someone take us to our hotel, Mr. Feehan.”

“Sure.” Feehan jumped up. “I’ll get Sam to take you. He’s just started here as an assistant empath and he doesn’t have a heavy workload yet.”

“Miss Walsh doesn’t share well with others, then?”

Feehan halted in his tracks. “Mr. Morosov, Ms. Walsh is an exceptionally talented individual who works well within her capabilities. Of course, due to her age, we are grooming Sam as her replacement just in case anything untoward happens.”

“You mean if she suddenly implodes.”

“I hope to God that doesn’t happen, but I have to be prepared for it. Now let me find Sam and get you settled in your hotel. It’s only a block or two away from here, so you’ll be able to walk back over here in the morning.” Vadim stood and so did Alexei, and Feehan headed out into the open office. Idly, Vadim wondered if the small blond went by the name of Sam, but Feehan had said “he.” She had an empath’s arrogance, and obviously had time to spare to wander about the office picking on defenseless newbies. Not that he was defenseless. If she caught him on another day when he wasn’t suffering from culture shock and jetlag, she might find that out to her cost.

“Do you really think this killer is human?” Alexei asked.

“No, but I’ll be damned if I’ll take the word of an empath.”

Alexei shook his head. “Careful now, Vadim. Your prejudices are showing.”

“Then it’s lucky I have you here to show me the error of my ways in your Fae-Web.”

“I didn’t help you much last time, did I?” For a moment Alexei looked almost stricken.

“But you will this time. You know what happened with Natasha, and you can factor in that data to offset the obvious influence of the empath on this case.”

“Sure I can , but whether I should is another matter.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like using loaded dice. Sometimes if you try and influence the outcome the results are too predictable and that’s not what the Fae-Web is all about.”

Vadim pushed in his chair and went to study the two photographs on the whiteboard. “Just do your best for me, okay? That’s all I ask.”

A young man bounded into the conference room and grinned at them both. “Hey, what’s up? I’m Sam.”

What the hell were you supposed to say to the greeting “What’s up?”

Vadim’s interest died, replaced by a wave of exhaustion. Definitely not the feisty blond he’d been dreading. Maybe she was just an unimportant intern after all.

* * *

Ella tucked the phone between her chin and shoulder and continued investigating the contents of her freezer while she talked to Laney.

“Yeah, I know! Imagine that, a good-looking guy in my office.” She peered at a cloudy zip lock bag and brought it out to the countertop for closer inspection. “Not that he was interested in me, especially after I told him he needed to work on his shields.”

“You didn’t. Oh Ella…”

Ella laughed right back at her. They’d been dumped into the same empath training program at the age of five and had been buddies ever since.

“So, have you heard anything from Otherworld recently?” Laney asked.

“I’m always hearing from them, you know what that’s like.”

“And you know what I mean. I got a letter today, and our birthdays are only a few weeks apart.”

Ella breathed on the bag and tried to read the faded print. It looked like the remains of a lasagna her mother had made for her. She had no idea how long it had been in there. Nuking it in the microwave was the only way to determine whether it was edible or not.

“Ella? Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, hon, I’m just trying to work out what to eat tonight. What did you say?”

“I said, I got a letter about my upcoming twenty-seventh birthday.”

“Really.”

“It was hilarious.”

“Well, they’re a bit out of touch over there and their command of English seems stuck at about 1950.” Ella grimaced at the stack of mail on her countertop that she hadn’t yet opened. “You’re not seriously taking any notice of those idiots are you?”

There was a long enough silence on the phone for her to think they’d been disconnected. “Laney, are you still there?”

“I’ve decided I’m going to meet the male they offer me as a mate.”

“ Laney , what the fuck?” Ella sat down abruptly on the nearest stool. “We always said we’d never do that. What’s changed?”

“I’ve changed. I’m scared, Ella. I can’t keep it together anymore.”

Ella gripped the phone. She’d never heard Laney sound so afraid. Her friend had always been the more outgoing and optimistic one.

“It’s okay to be scared, but can’t we work this out together? We’ve always been there for each other in the past.”

“And I know you’ll always be there for me, but it’s not enough anymore. I’m drowning in all this psychic shit in my head. I can’t sleep, I can’t concentrate, and I’m messing up at work…”

Laney worked for the SBLE down in San Jose. Ella shivered as she saw her own future and took a deep breath.

“Are you sure about this?”

“I think I am. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“Then you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do. I just hope the male they find for you is hot, well-paid and fucks like a god.”

Laney gave a watery chuckle. “I sure hope so. I deserve some kind of god, don’t I?”

Ella hung up the phone and tossed the plastic bag in the microwave. The fragrant smells of cheese and meat filled her apartment and her stomach grumbled. Laney’s defection hurt more than she had expected. Who was she going to share a padded cell with now? She’d always imagined them going down together. But who was wrong? Laney for wanting to live, or Ella for preferring to die without being beholden to Otherworld for a crummy mate. While she waited she flipped through her mail and right at the bottom she found one of the characteristic brown windowed envelopes from Otherworld.

She opened it and found a typed sheet of paper and a blue tri-fold brochure. The letter looked as if it had been copied many times.

Dear Empath,

Congratulations on almost reaching your twenty-seventh birthday.

Enclosed is some further information as to what to expect in the coming months, and how you might avoid your inevitable descent into madness.

Yours sincerely,

Otherworld Community Outreach Services (OCOS)

Ella picked up the enclosed blue leaflet and started to read.

ARE YOU AN EMPATH?

Are you worried about your future?

There were no glossy pictures, just the same blurred print, and a pen and ink drawing of some poor person, presumably an empath, with his or her head in their hands. She opened up the first fold.

FACT: 95% of empaths will experience some form of deterioration in their mental health by the end of their twenty-seventh year.

“No shit.” She hadn’t told anyone, but she’d already felt the first warning signs herself. Recovering from the extraction of a memory was becoming exhausting, leaving her with a terrible headache and the urge to curl up and sleep forever.

FACT: 95% of empaths will be unable to function as gatekeepers to Otherworld or replace memories by the end of their twenty-seventh year.

And that was what really scared the authorities on both sides of the divide, the prospect of losing their gatekeepers. Discovering that empaths could detect those who weren’t quite human on a psychic level had both frightened and intrigued the human government. That empaths could take away the memory of a human/Otherworld interaction had been an incredible bonus. Even Otherworld liked that, as it enabled them to control the wilder elements of their society and know when they had transgressed in the human world. When it came down to it, no one was concerned about her at all, just what she could do for them.

FACT: 50% of empaths will attempt suicide before the end of their twenty-seventh year.

She whistled. Wow, that one was a kicker. She hadn’t realized the rate was so high. She turned to the center page.

WHAT CAN YOU DO ABOUT THIS?

“Fuck all.”

99% of empaths who enter the Otherworld FAM (Find a Mate) program go on to live happy and fruitful lives.

Ella stared at that statistic until her vision started to blur. Ninety-nine percent? That was high, but then who believed Otherworld statistics? Only desperate people like her and Laney. She flipped the leaflet over, and saw another drawing of a happy grinning couple with their arms around each other. Wow, just wow. Did they really think she’d fall for that load of crap?

She dropped the envelope and its contents in the trash, and returned to scraping the lasagna out of the bag and onto a paper plate. A bottle of beer and a fork completed her preparations and she took everything through to her small leather couch in front of the TV. She put the local news on and stared at the screen. Ninety-nine percent of empaths who took a mate survived… Was she tough enough not to cave to that promise? Her personal interactions with other humans had taught her not to trust or rely on anyone except herself, so the concept of a mate seemed repugnant. The prospect of having to thank the government for the continuation of her life rankled even more. But if Laney was reconsidering her options, should she be rethinking her own?