The Tenants of 7C by Alice Degan Read Free Book Online Page A

actually gets killed, unless it’s by accident. That’s what I was hired to do, organize fake vampire hunts. ‘Urban adventures.’ They’d been doing it since the eighties. It wasn’t until six months ago, when I was promoted, that I found out they did real ones too. And not just vampires—well, you know. Whatever they can find. But until last month, until they got the app, the real hunts were super hard to put together, because they didn’t really know where … you … where you guys hang out. And I know the reason they promoted me is because they’d figured out I had what it takes—they knew I’d be good at tracking you down. But why is that?” Here she got to the real reason why she had called the bakery. “What am I?”
    He didn’t need long to consider that one. “I don’t know—maybe you’re just a sociopath.”
    “That’s what I’ve always thought,” she said seriously. “When I think about it. But it’s not just the lack of empathy. Not everyone can smell … paranormal … uh … magic.”
    His eyebrows went up. “Yeah, no. That’s true. What does it smell like?”
    “But surely you can smell it yourself?”
    “No, when I’m human I’m just … human. And when I’m a wolf I’m just a wolf. It’s actually pretty straightforward.” He shifted from one foot to the other. He had started to look intrigued in spite of himself. “You might be … some people have sensitivities. Like … Some humans, I mean.”
    “Like Rose. That’s what you’re trying not to say. Like your employer. That’s what she is—just human, but with some kind of empathy or sensitivity. That’s how she bakes the way she does.”
    He looked at her like he had a bad taste in his mouth. “You do get why I don’t really feel like giving you too much information, right? Because the last time we had a nice frank conversation where I was trying to help you, it ended up with me running away from fucking tourists with crossbows?”
    “Yes! I do understand that. That’s why I’m trying—that’s why I need information. But I do understand. You’re right not to trust me.”
    “Damn straight.”
    “So that’s it. You think I’m just human.”
    He looked at her for a long moment, appraisingly. “I actually don’t,” he said finally. “You’re probably half human. If I had to guess, I’d say you were probably half fay. That’s definitely a thing. And the fay can be pretty sociopathic.”
    “Half what?”
    “Fay. You know. Fairies.”
    She stared. “You’re kidding, right? I’m not a fairy—I’m a monster, some kind of monster. I transform. Like Takehiko. What’s he? He’s not a fairy .”
    “He’s a yokai. A Japanese demon. And he’s way outta your league. You just forget about him.”
    “Sure.” She actually took a step back. For a moment there he had looked quite fierce. “I didn’t mean … ”
    He shook himself a little, looking embarrassed by his outburst. “Do you know both your parents?”
    “No—my mother left home when I was little, and my father never talks about her.”
    “Yep, well, I think we solved that one.” He put the box of buns down, finally, on the side table by her couch, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Look. You … you’re not a sociopath. You don’t have to be. You didn’t let them kill me in the end, and that’s great, I’m really grateful. But you were going to, you know? I’m just not ready to be friends right now. Uh … I mean … ” He winced. “Not that you necessarily want friends … ”
    “I do. I want to know other people like me.” Even though other people like me might be terrifying.
    He shrugged, and turned toward the door. “Well, I guess you’ve got the number for the bakery. You can always try asking for me.”

About the Author

    Alice Degan is an academic and novelist (who also sometimes writes short stories). She lives in Toronto, in a weird house in an alley, where the rooms do in fact stay where you left