Iron (The Warding Book 1) by Robin L. Cole Read Free Book Online Page B

overpriced little apartment. Living above a shop that was closed by the time I returned home every evening and closed on Sundays gave me the luxury of privacy that not many in Riverview had. Being set back from the main road had always made it that much sweeter; not even Saturday traffic bothered me. Today, those assets had lost their luster. The thought of the sun setting with me alone, deadbolt or no deadbolt, was not a comforting one. I had the feeling my electric bill would be sky-high by the end of the month. The Ramen Days were coming early this year. Yippie.
    I looked down at the clock on my computer screen. 12:45. Life around the office would be picking back up shortly, and while I still felt like a nervous squirrel was lodged in my gut, I had to try to eat something. I dragged myself up out of my chair and headed toward the kitchen. Perhaps staring at my yogurt instead of that note would guilt my stomach into letting me ingest something semi-solid. I gave Bernice, the co-worker one cubicle over from mine, the pantomime of eating and smiled at her affirmative thumbs up. There was no feeling in that smile, but maybe hers was just as bogus as mine. I couldn’t see anyone actually liking the sterile gray world we worked in.
    I kept my eyes trained on my fingernails like they were the most important thing in the world as I traversed the path to the break room. One or two nods at passing co-workers seemed to suffice, which was a relief. I was in no mood to make small talk. I had the feeling that the generic “What’s new with you?” would send declarations of fairies among us spilling from my lips in shrill, hysteric tones. A trip to our dour HR man and the all too likely company mandated follow-up with a shrink was not the way I wanted to end my day. Instead, I kept my lips clamped tight and made a beeline for the refrigerator. Digging through that wasteland of precariously stacked items—and avoiding the land-mines of forgotten food—took a deft hand. I was consumed with that task when a voice behind me said, “Hey Caitlin, isn’t it your birthday today?”
    I knew without looking that that would be Marc, from the billing department. He had one of those voices that oozed confidence. He was the self-admitted “ladies’ man” of the office, having declared himself God’s gift to my half of the species on more than one occasion. Ugh. He was a nice enough guy, beneath the boasts and never-ending stream of cheesy pickup lines, but I had long thought he should consider himself lucky to work in a place where the adherence to professionalism was so lackluster. Anywhere else, he probably would have had a sexual harassment lawsuit or three on his hands. Some slightly inappropriate comment would somehow worm its way into our conversation, even if it only lasted two minutes, but I didn’t have the energy to think of an excuse to avoid it.
    “Yup, it is.” I located my wayward cup of blueberry-on-the-bottom as I said it and snagged it out of the path of a particularly fuzzy looking container of… Well, it might have once been lasagna. I couldn’t quite suppress a shudder. Some of the people in the office were utter savages. I plastered on a fake smile as I closed the fridge and turned around, the “thank you” dying on my lips.
    Marc leaned in the kitchen door-frame, sipping a cup of coffee. As usual, he was dressed in khakis and a brightly coral polo. Unlike usual, he was sporting a pair of large, curling horns, one on each side of his furry face. That face was still human—sort of. His grin was far too toothy beneath a protruding nose that looked distinctly snout-like. His bare arms sported the same dark, wiry fur as his face and his stubby fingers grasped a steaming paper cup with surprising deftness. A wave of dizziness washed over me.
    Holy hot staggering fuck. One of them was in my office. In my office. My extremities all seemed to go numb while the moment of panic played out in my brain. I heard the clatter