Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Amber

C rowds of admirers, constant proposals of marriage by desperate, overweight, and frustrated housewives, and the feeling that she had to constantly survey her surroundings to avoid any unpleasant surprises were not things that Amber would have listed when asked about her perfect life. Perhaps she should have at least chosen a female pen name instead of Henry Allan Spencer…

Just two years ago, she had quite enjoyed her quiet life of creating fictional romantic settings from the peace of her tiny apartment with a cup of cocoa in her hand. The trouble had all begun when she made the mistake of leaving the manuscript corner visible under her mattress when her big sister Jade came to visit…

And from such an innocuous scenario rose the chaos that became her new life. Jade refused to take no for an answer, and within months the world was introduced to Beneath Caribbean Skies. Despite Amber’s complete lack of interest in romance in general, it seemed she had a way of portraying it which sent her readership into a frenzy.

She supposed that she could be described as “loaded” at this point, though all that had changed in her life was the replacement of her ratty slippers and the acquisition of more expensive cocoa. The money was great, at first. But it took only a few months of unwanted fan mail to taint the ever-growing bank balance.

Her other unwanted acquisition in this whole mess was Gabriella. Gabriella was the nagging, persistent editor and agent she had been landed with. While Amber appreciated Gabriella’s shark-like demeanor when dealing with the publishing company and advertisers for her...she was less thrilled about it when the shark turned on her.

Her latest campaign was Amber’s second book...the one she hadn’t planned on writing. “The market is sorely lacking in supernatural-related romance novels! The untapped potential is immeasurable! This is your opportunity to become the name in a genre!” Gabriella insisted. And because Amber had the hardest time saying no to the other women in her life, thus began Finding the Blood Moon.

Which, apparently, was the most pathetic piece of trash Gabriella had ever read, if the single yellow sticky note plastered to the front of the manuscript was to be believed. ‘Uninspiring, bland, and illogical’ she had called it, as if Amber was supposed to somehow magically know how human/supernatural relationships would play out.

Which was the incorrect thing to say, apparently . Next thing she knew, Gabriella was at Amber’s door with a pages-long application, a pen, and a set jaw. “Fill it out and I’ll deliver it myself,” she demanded and handed Amber the paperwork before perching herself in Amber’s favorite chair.

Amber balked when she realized this was a speed dating application, but Gabriella’s eyes bored into her skull and seemed to physically rip her arguments right out of her brain. She squinted at the extra page of questions for supernaturals in disbelief. “Have you harmed or killed a human in the last five years? Have you ever been possessed? Is there a possibility that you have sexually-transmitted lycanthropy?”

Wow. They didn’t pull any punches, did they?

But Gabriella made no move to lessen her glower. So, with a sigh, Amber had filled out the paperwork, including the background check release, without complaint. She returned it to Gabriella and several days later, showed up to the venue precisely five minutes earlier than was required.

She’d pulled out her favorite suit for the occasion: a brown number with a navy vest and bowtie. Despite her best efforts to tame her curly brown hair, it still stuck up every which way. Thin-rimmed, square-lensed glasses perched on her freckled nose. They gave her a bookish, youthful appearance quite fitting of her 25 years.

Perfect for a quiet author.

It felt strange to arrive by bus when the parking lot was filled with gleaming cars. It also felt strange to peek out the windows and see crowds of people with protest signs.

“Don’t let the fae take our children!”

“Today our apartments, tomorrow our lives!”

“Fated mates are fake news!”

“Keep out crime! Keep out supernaturals!”

The protestors clogged up the sidewalks more and more thickly as the bus approached the venue. But the bus arrived without incident and, as a human, Amber had no issues passing the crowds. The venue itself had guards at the gate keeping the protestors at bay. Once Amber had passed the gates, their shouts faded and gave way to soft orchestral music.

The event was exclusive (and rather expensive.) Only those with acceptable answers on their applications were allowed in. In addition, the number of humans and supernaturals had been balanced. It had resulted in a bit of a lottery system for the humans, but Amber ‘lucked out.’

She was sure the organizers had spent plenty of time attempting to make it less awkward, but there was only so much that could be done to jazz up a speed dating night. It was held in a large ballroom with methodically placed tables and high-brow decor. What might be considered ‘romantic’ mood lighting flickered between each pair of seats, and expensive bottles of wine sat on all four long tables.

Upon check in, the singles were given an adhesive name tag and a wine glass which would join them on their rotations. Amber noticed that humans were given red tags, like her own, while supernaturals received blue with an extra line for their species. Supernaturals were assigned a seat, while humans would rotate.

A small stage had been set up at the head of the room for the host. The center of the room sported a bar, a fondue fountain, and various snacks. Already the milling crowd filled the room and the hosts were busy getting the supernaturals settled in their assigned seats.

Amber watched them curiously, trying to see if she could tag their species before even meeting them. Elves were easy; their pointed ears and slim builds gave them away instantly. The palest ones were probably vampires, if she had to guess. But werewolves, witches, and shapeshifters? Without their blue tags, they might as well have just been humans.

Interesting. Even the elves aren’t that different than anyone else. No wonder so many of the supernaturals that came out in the 60s already lived in regular society!

She overheard someone with a blue tag whispering to their companion as she stood in the check-in line. “Last year the supers changed seats. But the humans complained, feeling like we were stalking around the tables like tigers. I feel like these events are more catered toward humans than they are for us. It’s almost insulting.”

Amber almost found herself agreeing, but didn’t have much time to dwell on it before the lights dimmed further to bring attention to the front stage. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Here we go.

“Welcome, everyone! Thank you to everyone who decided to participate in this evening’s event.” The hostess wore a lovely red dress and a fancy updo, braided and twirled with an inordinate amount of bobby pins and hairspray, no doubt. She was as garish as the projector displaying a slideshow on the screen behind her.

“You lovely singles have seven minutes to get to know each other before a bell will ring and the humans will rotate to the right. When you reach the end of the table, my dears, start back at the top! And most importantly, have fun!”

The hostess waved her hand and anyone who hadn’t already been seated found the closest available spot at their preferred table. The options were ‘female supernaturals seeking men,’ ‘male supernaturals seeking women,’ ‘female supernaturals seeking women,’ and ‘male supernaturals seeking men.’ Amber took the seat at the top of the straight male supernatural table and jumped right in.

Despite her trepidations, the first few rounds weren’t as terrible as she had expected. The handy tags removed the stress of asking people their names. And when she thought of this as a research event rather than an attempt to find a romantic partner, it became almost bearable. Already her little leather-bound notebook was filling up with observations and ideas, and a small smile was beginning to tug at the corners of her lips.

Again the bell rang and the human swapping commenced. Amber stood, thanked the werewolf she’d been speaking with, and slid to the next chair on her right. Her next date, Reuben DeVito, stood to greet her. He wore a light gray, 3-piece suit and vest combo with a lilac button-up and deep purple tie.

It was already too hot in the venue, so he had removed the jacket and hung it over the chair. His eyes drifted down to her nametag while his hand extended. “Amber? It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Ben. Please, have a seat.”

Amber scanned the vampire’s sharp features and intense eyes as she accepted the firm handshake. The cold touch of his skin sent the tiniest of shivers down her spine, though she did a good job of hiding it.

“A pleasure to meet you as well, Ben.” She settled into the chair and, realizing her eyes had latched to his teeth, dragged them away.

This was her chance! There had been surprisingly few vampires so far at the event, a real disappointment. Amber flipped open her little notebook, readied her pen in her left hand, and met Reuben’s gaze. It struck her how contradictory those golden-flecked eyes were to the plastered smile on his face.

But there wasn’t time for such things. Amber needed information for the novel, so she scanned her pre-written list of questions and jumped right in. “So, tell me a bit about yourself. What do you do for entertainment? If you could visit anywhere in the world, where would you go? What do you look for in a relationship?”

She looked up expectantly, her thin frame at full attention. Her soft, brown eyes were full of interest as she leaned forward and offered Reuben a smile, revealing an Amber that few people got to see. In her excitement, she didn’t consider whether her question delivery was awkward (it was) or if she was coming across strong (she was). To her benefit, though, her innocent aura framed her like a child meeting an idol for the first time.