Path of the Vampire forum

<Deagan> It had taken a lot for Deagan McNamara to suck up his pride and open up the want ads. But his agent was right; funds were running out, and the new book was going nowhere fast, not with all the time he wasn’t spending working on it when instead he was researching homicidal maniacs who thought they were vampires, as well as occasionally running into a few. Harper Rock had never been this strange when he was growing up here. What the hell had happened to this town in the last five years? The want ads in the back of the Sunday edition of the Harper Rock news were a source of deep depression for him. Page after page of menial office jobs, sales jobs, food service. He was a published author and authority on folklore and the occult. He was damned if he was going to wait tables at Chili’s.

Deagan had just about given up any hope of finding something useful. As he closed the paper though, he noticed a half-sized ad on the very back page:

Want to write for the Harper Rock News? The Harper Rock News is seeking talented writers and reporters to join our team and uphold our standard of excellence in journalism! Call now to apply today!

A reporter? Deagan had never considered that. In many ways, he had already been playing the role of an investigative journalist, though the results were certainly not for public consumption, at least not yet. Deagan pulled out his cell-phone and dialled the number. A pleasant sounding receptionist answered. After explaining the purpose of his call, she transferred him to another secretary who took down some basic details. A few minutes passed as he chatted with her, until she told him that someone from HR would call him back to set up an appointment. Deagan hung up, feeling slightly odd about the tone of the conversation. When the phone rang less than a minute later, he was so startled he almost dropped it. “Hello?” It was the secretary calling back.

“Can you come by this evening, say, after six?”

“Yes, yes of course.”

It seemed an odd time for an interview, but Deagan supposed that newspapers kept different hours, what with much of the writing and editing occurring at the end of the news day and before the next day’s paper went to print.

Deagan arrived to the Harper Rock News offices promptly at six p.m. He had driven by the building many times, and had always found the large sign out front impressive, as if this were a small town paper that strived to be something more, a New York Times on the Algonquin River. The front lobby expressed this same intent. It was modern and elegant, proclaiming to any casual observer that big important stories were being broken behind the doors of the bullpen, and not just human interest pieces about old Mrs. Johnson losing her cat in a tree.

Deagan let the receptionist know who he was and what he was there for, and then had a seat in one of the comfortable plush chairs in the waiting area. He was dressed smartly in a blue suit, and he carried an attache with a copy of his resume and a portfolio of pages from some of his work, including some excerpts from his current still birth in progress, Legends of the Loup Garou. He decided after about thirty minutes that he should not have made an effort to be quite so prompt. Another secretary walked into the lobby, looking expectant, and then spotted him.
“Mr. McNamara? Ms. Broussard will see you now.”

There was something familiar about that name, though Deagan supposed if she was in the newspaper business that he may have just seen it in print. He stood and followed the secretary back. She stopped in front of the doors of a spacious office, and motioned for him to enter. Deagan took a deep breath. Once more unto the breach, dear friends...

<Abelle Broussard> It was thanks to the gods that Belle sought out a consultant, after returning back home. Money and things the past few months had become a hobby more or less, and she was still taking on more businesses ventures to fill the obvious void. She was still feeling guilty for sleeping for so long, she still didn’t understand what had put her into such a deep slumber, especially when things were beginning to get so good just a year ago. But the worst part of it all was that she could feel her emotions slowly and slowly drifting away. It wasn’t an uncommon trait among killers of her kind, she just guessed it wouldn’t happen to her.

One of the first suggestions the consultant made, was for her to publicly get herself out there. That ended up her entering the auction. Kristie, her consultant, said even if she didn’t go for millions of dollars at least she is still remembered. She fully agreed on that and ended up in uncomfortable dresses and makeup she never wished to feel or see again. The other suggestion give by Kristie was that she hire a few young women to work on advertising and employment ads. There was no reason a humongous building such as Harper Rock News should be so empty. Belle agreed as well.

She was finally beginning to understand and get a better grip on business, still there was the killer in her that took precedence over everything and anything. Right now it was the weekend, and much like the week her schedule was always the same. Stop in on all three of her babies (meaning businesses), do a little paperwork and then head to the caverns to do a little hunting and maybe just maybe a movie, depended on her aggravation level by that time.

Last stop tonight was the newspaper. Pulling up in her new truck, which was only bought because the people at the car dealership said she would need one during these upcoming months ….the snow got really horrible. She knew this, but she played along all the while thinking why shouldn’t she. First year she had actual money for something like this. And just like that she was the proud owner of a 2016 Ford F-150...something she could barely get into, but they made sure to accommodate to her height.

Instantly inside the lobby she acquired a headache. So many people, most without obvious intentions on needing even remotely anything inside her establishment.She swore she seen a government agent head toward the back as well. She would take care of that sooner or later. Right now she was greeted with the familiar hello of her sweet secretary.

“Hello Ms. Broussard! We haven’t seen you here in a long time,” she giggled and turned pink in the cheeks. Belle mock smiled back.

“Just here for a moment to check on a few things...then you wont indeed see me again in a long while,” she ended on a dry tone, which made the girl go silent feeling awkward.

Belle scurried to her office and shut the door. Now she remembered why she didn’t come often. It was too chaotic. Sinking her tiny body into the oversized office chair she smoothed her hands over her face and rolled her eyes. She was feeling miserable and just down right mean to her bones, but for the sake of business she controlled what she could. She buried herself in some necessary work with intentions of not staying long at all.

A little knock on the door, made her jump and growl softly. “It’s Liz...Ms. Abelle...Liz said to let you know that your six o’clock interview is here, she actually had the nerve to smile.

“Who the **** said i had a six o’clock anything?!” she jumped out of her seat and headed for a very frightened secretary, who nearly shook in those cute little heels. “Honestly….and I’ll be completely honest here,” she lowered her voice with a wicked look in her eyes. “I don’t even know why I pay either one of you...I can do all my paperwork on my own and it seems like anytime i come here OR see you little sneaks on camera you’re always doing something I'm not paying you to do,” the girl looked at her dumbfounded.

“So please before you say anything else...let me just say you’re fired,” she smiled and returned to her seat feeling satisfied oddly enough. “ tell your friend to walk home with you or maybe the two of you can carpool...it’s very unsafe out there,”

The woman could barely move, it was like her feet were frozen solid to the ground. Belle stared at her until her worker couldn’t take it anymore.

“Send in my new employee please, maybe he will do better jobs than you do?”

Belle waited until she heard the knock on the door, then announced in her sweet sounding, french tone. “Welcome to harper rock news, please come in,”

She stood with all of her not even five foot frame, cute as a button you would feel compelled to say, but there was a mean, mischievous twinkle in her eye that either scared people or pulled them in. She was happy to have also taken the fashion tips of her consultant as well...at least a little. Today she opted to wear a pair of nice fitting black slacks and a powder blue blouse, that was trimmed with some lace. She looked like a pure image of class.

“My name is Abelle..”

<Deagan> Is she crying? thought Deagan curiously, as he watched the secretary open the door and scurry away. With a shrug he turned to face his interviewer. Though the secretary had informed him he would be meeting with a Ms. Broussard, the woman had introduced herself by her first name, in the pleasant sounding accent he had come to associate primarily with Quebec, but which could still be found frequently here in Ontario. Despite her lack of formality, Deagan decided the safest course would be to continue calling her by her last name. He couldn’t be sure if the secretary’s state of consternation was due to personal woes or the mood of her employer, but best not to inadvertently wake any sleeping dragons.

“Ms. Broussard, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Deagan McNamara. I came about the, ah, job posting in the paper.” He shook the woman’s hand, noting the air of professionalism she carried. He also realized that no one had yet bothered to tell him what it was exactly that Abelle Broussard did at the Harper Rock News. For all he knew she was the owner. Or perhaps she was just some middle manager. Either way, at this moment she held the keys to the kingdom. If Deagan was going to start getting out of debt, as well gain access to a press pass, which could prove equally, if not more, useful, this would be the person he would need to impress.

He took a seat in front of the long black table that seemed to serve as her desk and work station. It was uncluttered of anything but a laptop, currently closed. Again, Deagan wondered what Ms. Broussard’s job actually was. “Though I have never worked as a reporter before, I am a published author with quite a few books and years of experience under my belt. In addition, I had several op-ed pieces published by the Toronto Sun while I was teaching Folkore and Religious Studies courses at the University of Toronto.” Deagan poppped open his attache and removed the resume and the portfolio, sliding them across the table to Abelle Broussard. He took a breath, and waited patiently for the woman to review the documents.

<Abelle Broussard> She really wasn’t fond of interviews, and especially this one being it was sprung upon her so quickly. She really did need more mental preparation for this sort of thing. Belle listened mostly to everything the man said. He really did have some good credentials and he was older, which meant he had received lots of experience. Plus there seemed to be a quality lacking in younger people these days; at least coming from an employer’s eye. About halfway through his well versed statements, did she hear the faint sound of crying coming from down the hall. Ginger and Liz...it made her smirk as she was lost in thought for a moment.

Instead of opening the portfolio or resume, she held up a finger and turned her ear slightly to the side, as she heard the steps getting closer. “My employees are angry,” she said with a wicked little mocking laugh.

The pound at the door confirmed there was indeed an angry duo, ready to announce war of sorts on poor Abelle. “Ms. Broussard! Please if we could come in….I’d like to know why we’re getting fired,”

Belle looked over at Deagan, with genuine amusement on her face. She pulled out her checkbook out of her suitcase below her desk and wrote out two checks. “Deagan,” she looked up at him while writing, her expressions hard as stone. “If you say you write well, then I believe you. Why would anyone come to a newspaper to write if they thought they couldn’t write well enough, and risk the embarrassment it might cause them?” she smiled and then called to the girls to come in.

Their cheeks red and frustrations high, they stared over her desk and into her cold blue eyes for an answer. “Deagan is a new employee here,” she motioned very mockingly to the two girls then to him. “Liz was always late...that’s why she lost her job and Ginger here, she was always on her phone…” she looked at Deagan to explain. “So now neither of them have a job, and these two nice big bonus checks I was going to give them….I’m giving them to you instead,” she took the checks and slid them nicely over to her new employee.

She was a strange one, Belle was. Her tactics growing weirder by the conversation. It was in her nature to be an asshole, but she had a bit of a liking to this older gentleman. The two girls were just silly decoys to make the building look prettier, they were expendable.

“I don’t want to see any of your here today...I just rather you do an article and wow me and then show me in the next issue,” she nodded happily and stood, to nearly push the girls out of the way, waving goodbye and she locked them out of her office..

“What do you love writing about the most?” she sat back in her chair like nothing had even happened and stared at him.

<Deagan> Deagan was astounded at the abysmal way in which Abelle Broussard had treated the two young women in her employ. Or formerly in her employ. Then again, perhaps he was just sentimental. He had held out hope that despite their age difference, he and Emily might one day have a family, perhaps some little girls or boys of their own. That hope had been ripped from him a year ago when Emily had been murdered. He wondered, if it had been two young men that Ms. Broussard had just dressed down in that manner, would he have felt the same streak of self-righteousness, or might he have instead commended her on being an empowered woman in the workplace? Deagan decided he did not know enough about the situation in this case to judge it fairly.

Deagan looked at the paychecks, and his eyes widened. Those were some generous bonuses the two young employees had missed out on. Having worked in academia, in the Folklore and Religions dept. no less, Deagan was no stranger to eccentricity. Yes, Ms. Broussard seemed a little… odd in her tactics. But if what she wanted was results, then Deagan knew he could deliver. In response to her query, Deagan considered showing her the portfolio pages again, and then resigned himself to just explaining it to her. If Abelle Broussard was indeed the owner of the Harper Rock News, she must have inherited the business, or possibly won it in a game of cards. She definitely didn’t strike him as a fan of reading.

“My field of study has been world folklore and religion, Ms. Broussard. I’ve taught courses on the subject, and have published five books to date on various regional myths, with a sixth currently in the works. Everything from Native American legends, to Japanese oni mythology, to the European tales of werewolves, witches, and… vampires.” He paused before the last word, as again the recollection of Emily’s grisly murder flooded his thoughts. “I’ve also written quite a bit on modern urban legends. The ghostly hitchhiker and that sort of thing. Being a folklorist has given me extensive experience with interviewing people from all walks of life. Most folk tales are oral traditions. It requires a folklorist to go out and get the tales straight from the horse’s mouth, so to speak, and then commit them to the page. I feel like there are a lot of stories worth telling right here in Harper Rock, and that the Harper Rock News could be the newspaper to tell them. I’d like very much to be a part of that.” There. That was his spiel. From outside the door of the office, he could still hear the sobbing young women consoling each other. They’re young and pretty, he thought. They’ll find new jobs. I need this. For my sake, and for Emily’s.

<Abelle Broussard> She listened, but wasn’t really hearing his words after he said vampire. God...if only Harper Rock knew how many lived here and how much influence they really had. Most businesses including all three of hers were popular among humans. If he only knew. Belle laughed as he ended his interview like introduction, but her laugh was met with anger .

“You’re smart…” she started and leaned back in her seat, staring at him. She wished she was smart, just like her brother Patrice and her sister Isidora; but she instead got the sneaky and cunning gene. “I’m just business orientated...I like to start things because I have the money to back it up, but then I need employees to keep things running. For instance, Ginger was hired months ago, before I went on vacation. I come back and everything is in ruins...and then I hired Liz thinking we could straighten things out, but as you can see it was all a lost cause,” she looked at the door, still hearing sobs as the girls more than likely packed their things. She couldn’t help but laugh slightly, but caught herself before it turned maniacal.

“You’re hired Deagan, but I do need to know that when I’m gone you can handle the office as well,” she hated putting pressure on someone so new, but there were few that she trusted and this man seemed like someone that she might be able to.

“ I need punctuality, eagerness, and obviously as discussed intelligence...you seem to posses those. Or at least I hope you do,” she cocked her head to the side then became curious. “Have you family here? Any children or wife?” if that was one thing she was good at, was reading people and picking his brain was on her brain at the moment. She needed to know he was the one.

<Deagan> He could barely keep up with the strange twists and curves this interview was taking. Was she asking what he thought she was asking? And now, questions about his family...

“I… had a wife. She died. A little over a year ago. We never had any children. If you’re concerned about my attention being split between my personal life and my professional life, I can assure you, I have no personal life. I never remarried, and have no intention of doing so.”

Deagan mulled over what she had said before she asked the question that had forced him to once again re-examine the tragic circumstances of Emily’s death; as if he ever really stopped examining them. “Ms. Broussard, it sounds to me like you’re asking me to be some sort of managing editor. I applied for a position as a reporter. I was really hoping to get out in the field and write some stories. See, that’s what I do best. Talk to people, and tell their stories. Now, I’m not telling you how to run your paper, so I’ll simply ask you, is this a position that would allow me to do that? Because if not, then I fear I may not be the person you’re looking for.”

He was being stubborn again, and he knew it. This woman was offering him a position that probably paid five times what he would be making as a reporter, and he was asking her for… for what? A demotion? But he had chosen to apply for this job for a very specific reason. He wasn’t going to wait tables, and he didn’t want to be a damn copy editor or office manager. He wanted to get out there in the field, and potentially find more clues to solving his wife’s murder.

He knew Emily would have kicked him if she had been alive right now. Considering his recent circumstances, he half expected her to show up and do it it anyway. She had always accused him of being hard headed past the point of reason. Perhaps it wasn’t too late, now that she was gone, to start listening to her. Deagan took a deep breath. “Please don’t think me ungrateful, Ms. Broussard. It’s just that I have a certain… passion. And if you want the most from me as an employee, I’m sure you’ll want to play to my strengths. I can manage your office, and the staff for you. I can make the trains run on time here at the Harper Rock News. All I’m asking is, will the job you’re describing still allow me to be a reporter?”

<Abelle Broussard> She listened with amusement. He was feisty and direct. She respected that. She knew she could always get another wasteless office manager, but for what? She just needed an extra eye on things as she was becoming a business mogul.

“I don’t want you to manage anything,” she said with slight attitude, but realized she was dealing with a human and all their many emotions, so she dimmed her tone and took a mock deep breath as she did so often when dealing with people that weren’t her kind. “I do just fine managing on my own...I just would like a little extra hand,” she looked at him and frowned. She hated the name Broussard...it just never seemed to fit her.

“I wouldn’t deny you of doing something you are passionate of doing, and I DO need a good reporter. All I need is for someone to open the business and close it. Perhaps gather paperwork for me, so I can come get it at the end of the night,” she smiled to the best of her ability. “That’s all really...no pressure,” she hoped she didn’t scare him away. Why was she always so mean? It had her so confused as of late.

“My passion is business and your’s is writing, and so that is what we are aiming for,” she pursed her lips together and tapped her chin.

“First however you must stop calling me Ms. Broussard. Just call me Belle...everyone else does,” she really laughed this time. “Do you know what Belle means? It means beautiful...I like to say I’m a beautiful disaster most days,” god how she wished he was one of her kind. He would understand things about her that just made sense.

“I’m not a mean boss, I just like things done my way,” she stopped and realized she was being bitchy again. “The right way...above my own way I guess…” she cracked her neck and fingers to loosen herself up.

“ I wasn’t trying to be nosey when I asked you, I just like to know a little more about my employees, makes things easier to understand where you are coming from,” in this case she needed to know how to deal with any upcoming human emotions.

“ Me...I grew up with 7 other brother and sisters in a hut in Africa,” she thought back and decided to leave out how she had gotten here. “Father was a missionary and my mother just took care of us. And believe it or not I’m half Korean and half french...crazy huh? Cause I sure don’t look it,” she laughed nervously. She hated looking the way she did. She had always wished she could be someone else and look different. Maybe one day.

“See...sharing stories is nice isn’t it?” she smiled big and opened her desk to pull out some paperwork. She set in front of him with a pen, and spread out the papers. “I’d really like you to join the team, and if there is anything pressing or overwhelming please let me know and I will fix it right away. Is that fair? Or do I risk losing an amazing writer?”

<Deagan> Deagan smiled kindly at the young business woman. God, he could be such an asshole sometimes. He knew he had lost friends since Emily’s death, some of them good ones. He would have learn how to stop setting fire to every bridge he came across if he wanted to have any kind of life after… after his mission was accomplished.

“You’ll have to forgive me Ms. Br- I’m sorry, Belle. I have been a professional writer for so long, and I guess my agent just sort of puts up with me being a bit of a curmudgeon.” He chuckled. “ I’m a little out of practice when it comes to interviewing for a job. And even after all that, the fact that you still want me to work for you, well, I believe you’ve made me an offer I can’t refuse.” He took the pen, and finding the appropriate lines, signed and dated the employment contract.

“And you’re right, sharing stories is nice. It certainly sounds like you have an amazing one. I would love to hear more sometime if you ever get the chance. In the meantime, I will make sure you don’t regret the trust you’ve put in me here today. I’m guessing due to your… recent vacancies that you’d like me to report for duty bright and early tomorrow morning?”

<Abelle Broussard> “I’ll meet you here around nine tomorrow morning, and we can just go over a few things, but you’ll get the hang of it right away I’m sure,” it actually made her happy for once. He was nice and the attitude was challenging in a good way. She knew he wouldn’t let anything slip past him, and that was all she needed.

“It’ll be nice to have updates of what’s going on in the city...I lost touch on my vaca,” she gathered his papers that were signed and put them into a folder and into her briefcase so she might take it home and file it.

“Good times ahead my new friend,” she winked and sat back comfortably. “It’s been an absolute pleasure meeting you...see you tomorrow"