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“You really don’t know anything, do you?”
“You will need to come and see me every week for the next six months. If you’re able to keep yourself out of trouble during that time, the meetings will drop to once a month for a year. Any reoffence, and you will be thrown into jail. There will be no further leniency.” The female on the other side of the desk from me slides some colourful slips of paper towards me as she explains my fate.
Swallowing the lump in the back of my throat, I manage to croak out my understanding. “Yes, ma’am.”
I want to ask her to repeat everything she just said, or even write it down for me, but I’m low-key terrified of my parole officer. Calling her a troll seems cruel, but I am pretty sure that’s what she is. Until today, I didn’t know they existed, and now my whole world has been blown open. She’s small and squat, almost as round as she is tall, and has thick, greenish grey skin. Honestly, if she stopped moving, she would resemble a rock with the texture of her rough skin. Her wide head sits straight on her thick shoulders, no signs of a neck in sight. Green strands, which look more like grass than hair, are pulled back into a tight bun, leaving her unusual face clear for all to see. Two long, thick teeth extend from her wide lower jaw, only adding to the unwelcoming appearance she gives off. I’ve seen no sign of a smile, and I don’t know if that’s because she can’t, or if it’s because she just doesn’t like me.
Her large, crooked nose draws the eye, but I force myself to focus on her mud-coloured orbs. However, I’m obviously not very good at this, as she has caught me staring several times now, her expression becoming sourer by the minute. The thing that causes me the most confusion though, is her name.
Dorine.
Dorine, the fucking troll.
A loud slam pulls me from my distracted thoughts. Jumping in surprise, I look around, only to realise that Dorine has slammed her fists on the desk. I’m surprised the table managed to withstand the force, but I don’t have time to marvel because I have a snarling troll in my face.
“Are you listening?” she snaps, leaning across the desk so she’s almost in my face. “If you step out of line, you will be dragged back here, and your little sob story won’t save you again.”
I feel the blood drain from my face and my stomach flip in fear. Eyes wide, I manage to squeak out something that resembles an agreement and nod fiercely.
She stares me down for a moment more, then she finally seems satisfied that she scared the crap out of me and sits back down. Huffing, she brushes back a few loose strands of her green hair as though trying to regain her composure. Turning to her computer, she types a few notes while I sit in terrified silence.
We’re both like this for a few tense minutes, and I patiently wait for my next instructions. A tickle pricks the back of my throat, and although I desperately try to hold onto it, a cough forces its way out.
Slamming her meaty hands down on the keyboard, Dorine pins her mud brown eyes on me and glares. I smile sheepishly and mime pulling a zip across my lips. She shakes her head and jabs a finger towards the door.
“Wait outside. I will submit the paperwork and arrange for them to collect you.”
I don’t know who this mystery “them” is, but I do as I’m told. Whether or not Dorine has a good side, I certainly don’t want to get on her bad side. In all honesty, I’m completely overwhelmed and have no idea what’s happening or how my life is about to change.
Clutching my pamphlets, I take a seat in the waiting room. The last several hours have been hellish. Once Officer Hottie dropped me off, I was taken into an interview room where a werewolf and a witch asked me lots of questions. My first suspicion that they would be more upset about my undocumented status than the crime I committed was right. They asked the same questions repeatedly, but they soon worked out that I knew nothing and was telling the truth.
After that, they went through the process of getting me documented. While they couldn’t do the whole process, they were able to get it started and take my finger and fang prints, as well as a vial of my blood. I’m now in the system, but I will have to go to city hall to finish the registration process and pick up my new ID.
It took hours, but now that I’m sitting here and waiting for the next part of my life to begin, I find that I preferred it when I was busy answering questions. The quiet is too loud, and it allows for my brain to play tricks on me. I need a distraction. Glancing down at my lap, I flick through the brightly coloured pamphlets I was given. Perhaps they will be useful.
So you just killed your loved one. Frowning at the pink and purple pamphlet, I flick through it. I’m surprised by it, to be honest, because it looks pretty perky considering the subject matter. I’m also feeling a little raw from my actions, so I don’t think I’m ready for that subject matter yet.
Being a vampire doesn’t have to suck! Oh, that one might actually be useful, because so far, my experience has definitely sucked. Also, the pun made me smile. Moving onto the next pamphlet, I raise it up and take in the bright letters on the front.
Fangs aren’t only for fun! A guide to responsible feeding.
A wave of despair washes over me as I drop the booklet onto the seat beside me. No pamphlet is going to help me now. I have no idea what’s going to happen next or where I’ll go from here.
I’m a vampire now, and I don’t know what that means.
I wish Tina was here. I even asked if I could call her, but I was told I couldn’t contact a human from the supernatural station because she might be able to work out where it is. It doesn’t matter that she already knows about what I am and that the SNPD exists, oh no, they just don’t want a human turning up at their doors and causing problems.
“I heard they were lenient on you.” A shadow falls over me, but I already know who it is—Officer Hart. His voice is ingrained in my mind.
My heart leaps in my chest, both at seeing him and having a friendly face nearby. Butterflies riot in my stomach, making me feel like a teenager with a crush, while I simultaneously lose all control over my emotions. “I don’t know what will happen now.” My voice is a croak, and my eyes sting as I force myself not to cry. “I killed someone, and I’m never getting his blood out of my shirt.”
I promise I’m not as vapid as I sound. The state of my shirt is the least of my worries and by no means the same as killing my boyfriend, yet I’m so overwhelmed and I have no idea how to express what I’m feeling. My word vomit has clearly taken him aback, and I’m sure I look a right state.
Instead of backing away, though, he recognises that I’m having a crisis and steps closer, frowning as he places a hand on my shoulder. My body suddenly feels alert, every cell becoming aware of the male touching me. He’s not even touching my bare skin, and I feel alive. What would it feel like without a layer of fabric between us? Oh, now that would be a fun experiment, all in the name of science of course…
Head out of the gutter, Emmy. Focus.
“I know this is a scary time for you,” he starts, his voice quiet but steady. “You will make it through this, and I will help you where I can.”
