Hunted By The Others by Jess Haines Read Free Book Online Page B

the fact that I was reading an e-mail from a friggin’ vampire. Royce was supposedly older than dirt, but he didn’t appear to be the technophobe I would’ve thought considering the height of technology at the time he was made a vamp was probably a sundial.
    Reading it over a second time, I decided that there were two things about it that bothered me. First, he was being far more formal in writing than he’d been in person. Second, “prior to completion of your assignment” didn’t quite make sense. It was just a little too carefully worded. It was the sort of thing that made me think he might really know about the agreement I had with The Circle and that he was planning on using me to get to them somehow.
    Maybe I was reading too much into everything.
    I jotted down a quick “I’ll be there” reply and sent it. Just as I was about to turn off the monitor, another e-mail popped into my in-box. Veronica was an early riser, apparently. I opened the e-mail.
    Come by at 2 PM . Ask for Arnold at the front desk. He’ll get you whatever you need.
    Nice. Things were starting to look up. Maybe when I met with Royce this evening, I’d actually be prepared for it.

Chapter 9
    Even though I’d forced myself to lie down and take a nap so I wouldn’t be a complete zombie later that night, I was still feeling groggy when I entered the lobby of The Circle’s downtown office tower. I’d almost slept through my alarm and ended up hurriedly throwing on presentable clothes, fluffing my hair and slapping on some makeup before running out the door. Traffic had been hell, and even though I knew it was better to park somewhere and take the train, I just didn’t want to deal with it. So between traffic and finding parking, I was twenty minutes late.
    The design in the lobby was impressive: lofty ceilings; high windows that allowed sunlight to stream in; low-slung red couches; and intricate arcane symbols inlaid on the floor. Feeling hassled, rumpled, and cranky, I approached a sleek, polished desk where a bored-looking receptionist tapped away at her keyboard. She didn’t bother to look up.
    “Excuse me? I’m here to see Arnold.”
    The girl slowly raised her eyes from her flatscreen monitor to look at me over the rim of her glasses with cool, studied contempt. I couldn’t help but notice that her clothes were all trendier and nicer than mine and that her expensively dyed blond hair framed a thin, elfin face with heavy, but expertly applied, makeup. She was stick-thin and pretty enough to be modeling those clothes on a runway somewhere.
    She looked me up and down and cocked a dismissive eyebrow before sliding her eyes back to the screen. Obviously, I failed her inspection.
    “You’re late.”
    More tapping on the keyboard. A pause.
    “He’ll come get you in a moment. Please have a seat, ma’am.”
    The bored voice couldn’t hide the underlying irritation. I’d probably interrupted a game of solitaire.
    Making a heroic effort not to flip her off, I hefted my purse higher on my shoulder and had a seat on one of the uncomfortable but stylish red couches. The magazines spread on the table were up to date, but stuff I’d never read. Arcana Quarterly and Familiar Fashion: How to Accessorize Your Fae Focus just isn’t my cup of tea. I pulled out my cell and started fumbling with the text messages, trying to find something to focus on other than the rapid clicking of nails over keys coming in rattling spurts every few seconds from the reception desk.
    Arnold kept me waiting exactly thirty minutes. His way of telling me off for coming late, I supposed. I looked up at the sound of him clearing his throat from the glass double doors next to the receptionist’s desk.
    He was tall, skinny, with thick glasses perched on a narrow nose and an untidy mop of sandy brown hair, and wearing jeans and a faded T-shirt that read JESUS SAVES. THE REST OF YOU TAKE DAMAGE . Oh great, a geek.
    “Ms. Waynest?” He appeared distracted, glancing at