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Chapter 1 - Cora
The office came alive with the usual hustle and bustle, signifying the quickly approaching end of the news week. It was always the busiest time spent frantically writing, editing, and publishing the last of our articles before we could go home for the weekend.
It was fortunate that I worked well under pressure, and I thrived in that environment.
After years of not knowing what I wanted to do with my life, I discovered journalism. It became the greatest love, and I had no doubt in my mind that I’d be willing to report for the rest of my days.
Even if I was a witch and could’ve found some sort of job that more aptly fit magic use, I found that gathering information, speaking to sources, and writing every precise word became an incredible outlet for me. I enjoyed connecting with my mystical side, but being a journalist for the local paper helped me feel committed to the community.
Being a writer gave my life meaning, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
“Barlowe, I have another one for you to roll out by tomorrow afternoon.”
Lifting my eyes from the laptop screen, I caught as my boss’s head poked into my office.
Being the head reporter came with its perks, like having a quiet office of my own. While it was impossible to keep the door closed thanks to the constant movement of people in and out, it was a nice symbol of how far I had come since the day I first stepped foot in the building.
I worked incredibly hard to get there. From being a coffee fetcher and the designated printer mechanic to the junior editor and everything else in between, I did what I had to do. I stayed at the office late when I needed to and pulled all-nighters even if no amount of caffeine could fix how exhausted I’d end up the next day.
I did my time as the office grunt, and it felt good to be respected. I took my job extremely seriously, and I was glad to be in my position, even if it meant having more pressure on my shoulders.
“What’s it on?” I asked, pushing away from the desk.
Ron approached and handed me a note with what resembled chicken scratch scrawled across the front. “Here’s the address to a new tattoo shop opening up in the next few weeks. Some young hotshot is looking to make his mark here, and he’ll be a hit with the local shifters. It’s yours if you want it.”
Considering the task, I couldn’t disagree that the locals would go wild for it. The wolves were always searching for their newest ink to display their accomplishments. It would also help attract some tourism into the area, which only ever helped our businesses.
It was a win-win. Give the new entrepreneur a feature in the paper, and everybody could reap the benefits.
“Any angles I should aim for?”
Ron chuckled, aware by now that I rarely turned down an article. Especially those that related to local business. “Get to know this kid and try to boost interest. We’ll scratch his back, and maybe he’ll offer us some free tattoos.”
The latter statement made me cock a questioning brow.
“I didn’t tell you? I was thinking of getting a tiger over my right shoulder,” Ron went on, using his usual joking tone.
“Right,” I said, shaking my head with a snicker. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
At the very least, the thought of my boss in his early fifties lining up with the local shifters to get some fresh ink was amusing.
“Get that article out, and we’ll see.”
Smiling at the prospect of another potentially rewarding story, I nodded and put the note on my desk with the address I needed. “I’m on it.”
“I look forward to it,” he murmured before slipping out of the office with a surprisingly jovial look on his face.
He was usually a fairly abrasive boss when it came down to the grindstone of getting the paper ready for print. It usually took an office party and a few glasses of whiskey to get him in a cordial mood.
Regardless, I wasn’t in the business of complaining.
When lunch rolled around, I made my way past the cubicles and out of the downtown building with my handheld recorder stashed in my bag. Just because I wasn’t the office grunt anymore didn’t mean I could be kept away from the local coffee shop that had my heart.
I stepped inside River’s place, welcomed by the familiar and comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee, and took a deep breath in. Standing in line, I thought about how it had been a good day and how it would continue to get better if all kept chugging along at the same pace.
Before long, I reached the register, and River’s beaming smile welcomed me.
“The usual?” She asked, glowing as she normally did.
