Wait, no, that was bad. It meant he knew less. “And what were those plans?”
“Ah, let’s see…” he said, scratching his cheek. “It was an app of some sort, something to help witches. That’s why she was double-majoring in CS. I can’t remember many of the details, but my initial impression was that it had been a good idea, and I admired her entrepreneurial spirit.”
Quirking an eyebrow, I paused and looked up at him. “Oh?”
“Yes. I hate to say it, but even in this day and age, the only way for omegas to really succeed in business is to strike out on their own. A lot of companies are loath to hire omegas as anything other than low-level temps or assistants.” He leaned forward, speaking a little more quietly. “They hate paying heat leave.”
I nodded in understanding. Omegas typically went into heat three to four times a year, and they were often discriminatedagainst by employers because of it, what with bosses worrying the company would be put out if they left in the middle of a big project or something.
But it seemed pretty unfounded since a lot of omegas took heat suppressants precisely because they didn’t want to deal with the inconvenience. And alphas, who went into ruts themselves, never had the same problems getting hired.
“How about friends? Do you remember any classmates she was particularly close with?”
His expression turned somber. “I remember two in particular, but they unfortunately passed away shortly after she left. It was a dark time here.”
I assumed one was the boyfriend, but I didn’t know about the other one. “Can you give me either of their names? How did they die?”
Professor Howland sighed, then looked at his watch. “I’m afraid I have a lecture starting in thirty minutes that I need to prep for. Can I email you later?”
I thanked him, standing and taking my card out of my wallet and sliding it towards him on his desk. “Of course, and thank you for your time. If you can send me any information at all about those students who died, I’d really appreciate it.”
I left his office and headed back out of the building, feeling like I now had more questions than when I’d started. This little witch omega was an enigma, igniting my alpha instincts with the thrill of the chase. If I wasn’t already being paid ungodly amounts of money to find her, I might have been looking into her disappearance just to satisfy my own growing curiosity.
WhowasSage Hexwood?
4
Cater to Me
The faculty in the computer science department had the same things to say about Sage as Professor Howland—that she was a bright, industrious omega who broke their hearts when she dropped out so close to graduation.
There were still other leads to follow in Noctis before I went back to her hometown of Cindralis and checked out her family, and I needed to exhaust them all. Stopping by her previous place of employment was the logical next move.
I got in my car and drove halfway across town to the wealthy vampire district where Sable Mansion was located, sunrise still a couple of hours away.
Sable Mansion was an old home that had been turned into an “opulent event space,” according to its website. Pictures of glamorous vampires getting married, dancing, drinking champagne flutes of blood, and other displays of good timescovered the page, along with instructions to contact their office for their rates.
That was always code for “if you have to ask, you can’t afford it.”
I drove through the towering wrought-iron gates, my tires crunching on the gravel drive as I approached a sprawling manor of pale limestone. Its facade was bathed in the ethereal light of strategically placed lanterns that swayed gently in the evening breeze, and tall, arched windows along the side of the building were lit, providing a glimpse of the decadence that lay within.
I parked next to a marble fountain, the central figure covered in gold leaf and carved in the likeness of the vampire who probably built the place, then made my way up the stairs through the large front doors, my boots heavy on the parquet floors.
A smartly dressed vampire alpha in a skirt suit and stilettos, her hair pulled back tightly in a polished ponytail, came down the grand, split staircase, giving a tour to a dopey-looking couple. Based on the cheap fabric of the woman’s dress and the scuff marks on her partner’s shoes, they did not look like the usual clientele.
“A lot of brides love to use these stairs for their entrance. Just imagine how this space will look filled with flowers and…” She turned around, finally noticing me. After one look at my horns, she frowned. “The employee entrance is in the back.”
Fucking vamps.
I took out my license. “I’m tracking down a young woman who used to work here; she’s disappeared. Can I speak with one of your managers?”
The tour guide’s eyes darted to the card, and then she plastered a fake smile on her face and looked at the couple.“I’msoooosorry, this will only be a minute. Go ahead and look around, and really get a feel for the place. I’ll be right back.”
Her smile disappeared as she clicked her way towards me, gesturing for me to follow her through a side hallway. Once we were outside of earshot, she turned to me, finger pointing in my face. “Do you have any idea how many cancellations we had the last time a bunch of our employees disappeared?” she hissed. “Keep your Sanguiel-damned voice down in front of potential clients!”
“The last time?” I asked.
She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Yes, about five years ago, our whole catering team never came back after an event, and it took a long time to convince skittish, superstitious brides that it was okay to book their weddings here. Please, have some tact.”
