by Tina Gower
“Of course.” Yin tilts her head for me to find a seat, but when I’m comfortable I glance over to see her still biting her lip. “It’s just that I’m a tiny bit elf and I can’t let this go.” She pulls a book from the shelf and hugs it to her and sits next to me. “This one is right next to the one you picked up and my senses tell me that it calls to you.” She holds it out. The Lone Wolf: Surviving a World without Pack. “I don’t mean to overstep. I hear there aren’t many werewolves in Angel’s Peak and it must be lonely.”
I pretend not to be interested in it. “Oh, not at all. I’m not a descendent of werewolves. It just seemed like an interesting subject. I don’t know anything about them.”
The book sits between us. She’s right: it calls to me. I want to open it up and read all about what Becker must be going through and what I can do to help.
No wait, scratch that. I want to know if I’ve screwed myself once again by getting too close to a coworker. I can’t let myself care about Becker. Our arrangement is business. If he can’t function, then our department suffers. If our department isn’t running smoothly, then me becoming an actuary superstar would be significantly harder.
Just ignore the lust-filled dreams I have each night starring Becker.
I tuck the book into my laptop case and immediately open the case file to move the conversation in the right direction. “So, I’ve reviewed the notes from your company and it appears you’ve experienced a computer glitch.”
Yin sighs and crosses her legs. “Well, a glitch would be like a blip, something we could all laugh off, but I hardly call having clients get their matches and finding out their soul mate is recently deceased a glitch.”
“And you’d like to merge our database with yours to eliminate the discrepancy. If you knew our most recent risk statistics in the general population, then you could eliminate the potential matches that are at a higher risk of imminent death.”
Yin leans forward. “Correct. I know there are some hurdles.”
I shake my head. “The Predictions Privacy Act is more than a hurdle. But I’ve put some thought into creatively avoiding that problem. We can’t release names, but we can get around that by using ID numbers and a double system that will keep any of your employees from seeing any name that has been eliminated.”
Yin’s eyes sparkle. She grins. “See, I knew Gretchen would only send me the best.”
I carefully avoid her compliment. She hasn’t even seen what else I can do to impress her. “And I wouldn’t rely on the government to grant the money necessary to put those software changes in place—”
Yin holds up her finger to stop my train of thought. “Ever After has more than enough funds to build whatever system is required and we’ll allow any of the government prediction agencies to use the system at no cost if they find it useful for their own purposes. Also, as I discussed with your boss, we’re more than willing to pay compensation of your time as a consultant.”
“They will like that.” I smile for the first time since entering the office. It looks like this really is going to be a straightforward case. My shoulders ease with the release of tension I’d been holding there. “The government is more than happy to take your money.”
“Of course they are.” Her smile takes up most of her face. “We’d like to take care of the issue quickly. The incident is already showing up on the shadier media sites as a sign of the Outlier Prophecy coming true. I’d rather not be associated with bringing about the end times and all that.”
I roll my eyes. The Outlier Prophecy had been coming up more and more. No doubt a residual consequence of Liza Hamilton’s plan to eliminate a significant number of the oracle population becoming public knowledge. Another carryover from my last case. Jack Roberts had been her main target. Now every blip in the system would be attributed to Liza’s attempt to make the Outlier Prophecy a reality. The Prophecy was nothing more than a jumbled mess of predictions that all point to a group of people able to bend the oracle net to their will. Too vague to even receive probability numbers and with no timeframe. Heck, they dated back as far as the Medieval era in every culture, but scientists had written off the collection of forecasts to be flukes or phony.
I gather my notes and pack them into my laptop bag. “My hope is to get this taken care of too quickly for anyone to speculate on it being a sign of the Outlier Prophecy coming to pass.”
Yin claps her hands together. “Perfect.”
She jumps from her seat on the couch, heading to her desk that is clear of everything you’d normally imagine on a desk except for the manila envelope she set there earlier. From under her desk she pulls out a plastic-wrapped wooden tree figurine that looks suspiciously like the one I keep on my desk at the office. It had been a gift from my brothers after graduating college, made uniquely for me, and I didn’t notice it had been missing.
To pull a cupid note, or love prediction, it works the best when the oracles and seers are sent a personal item from the client. I rub the side of my jaw.
“I hope you don’t mind.” She waves the envelope in the air. “When I heard who Gretchen was going to assign to the case I had our oracles and seers run your name through for a list of potential soul mates. We put a rush on the results.” She hands me the envelope and my personal item and squeezes her fingers into little fists as she jumps in place. “You’ll probably want to wait and open them in private…”
I shove my figurine into my bag, set it aside, and tear the top of the envelope clasp. It’s like ripping a Band-Aid off. Just get it over with. Although, I hate disappointing Yin so soon after I’ve met her and decided she’s not so bad after all.
“…Or maybe not.” She plunks herself right next to me. “Maybe that werewolf you’re curious about is on that list.”
My heart performs the triple jump. Hop, skip, jump. My fingers pause on the paperwork, mid-slide.
Yin senses my hesitation. Her mouth opens and it looks like she’s trying to think of the best way to back pedal her last words. Sure, part of what she said is disturbing. What if my soul mate’s name is on the print-out? Worse, what if it’s Becker? Would that change anything? I don’t want a relationship, not one that comes with baggage. But, oh gods, to finally give in and let myself…
And if his name isn’t on there, I can give up this silly attraction I have for him.
I reach in and pull out the results.
Breathe a sigh of relief.
Results inconclusive.
Yin’s smile falls. She grabs the paper from me. “That can’t be right. I asked them to do a
rush, but it shouldn’t have affected the outcome. I’ll ask them to run it again.”
I put a hand on hers. “Don’t worry about it. I’d rather not know.”
“I just thought it would help if you knew what kind of service we provide. How valuable it can be…” She huffs and slumps her shoulders. “Well shit. Don’t I look like an idiot.”
She looks so devastated that I almost tell her that I’m a blank. Fateless. I’ve never had a prediction and any time an oracle tries to forecast my future, I’m not included in the vision. Except it’s not exactly the best strategy to let that information out. An actuary working in Predictions as a blank? It’s a possible security risk. People would question my motives. Especially with tensions running high after a surge of anti-fate sentiment.
“Don’t worry about it.” I gather my bag and hoist the strap over my shoulder. “I’ve heard great things about Ever After’s services. I’m looking forward to working with the private sector.”
Yin nods. “I was going to say that I’m extremely excited to show you what we can do. How many freedoms we have. I slaved away in Health Predictions for two years before moving over to Love. Getting out of the competitive field was a nice change. A lot easier hours.”
I bet. Health had the added stress of several private companies rising to the top positions of the industry. The government offices barely keep up. They lose talented oracles every day to Fortune 500
companies.
“At least it wasn’t Finance,” we both say in unison.
Then there is this weird moment where we both roll our eyes and acknowledge we’re practically twins. But I’m in the plain grey suit, long black hair in bun and she’s in all white with fuchsia scarf, short hair down, but very hair-commercial quality.
I shatter the illusion first. “Well, I’ve got to get my notes typed up at the office. I’ll keep in touch with the details moving forward with the partnership.”
“Ah, wait.” Yin goes behind her desk, opens a drawer, and pulls out her card. “In case you have any other questions, call this number day or night.” A private cell phone number is scribbled on the back. She looks like she’s going to say something more, but covers it with a pleasant smile.
During the entire trip back to the office something about the case bothers me. It’s too straightforward. Something feels off, but I can’t put my finger on it. When I get back around 3:30 p.m. the office is mostly empty. Some might have taken work home, others are out on late meetings. I use the time to explore Ever After’s business page.
It starts the user in a silent recreation of the famous commercial, then opens up to menu options in the shape of a heart. When I scroll my mouse over each option, it simulates a beat that pulses outward. There are two main different types of services. First one is easy, relatively inexpensive: just a list of the personality traits of your ideal soul mate for the price of a nice suit. The second is more extensive: a list of ten names starting with the most compatible as the top five for around the down payment of a luxury car. Want more names? Simple—spill over more money.
What the page doesn’t spell out is that there is a fraction of the population that has removed their names from the compatibility pool. The reasons vary. Either a candidate isn’t interested in getting married, is married to one of their potential soul mates and has removed themselves from further matches, is married and doesn’t want to find out they’re not with their supposed soul mate, or lastly, they are anti-prediction nuts and want nothing to do with the system, public or private.
So a soul mate prediction isn’t necessarily the most viable candidate, just the most available and open to appearing on a compatibility list. But most people don’t understand how statistics work; they just see hearts and flowers, or they don’t care to think too deeply about how their true love will gallop into their life.
Then there’s the problem of having a match, or several matches be dead or dying. How did that happen? I would have to ask Jack the next time I visit the hospital about how a love oracle might accidentally forecast a doomed match. Not just once, but a significant enough number of times that Ever After would throw money at the Accidental Death Department to help them fix the bug.
What if it’s not a bug? What if some couples who are meant to be are just fated for disaster? Fated for a short time together and then nothing.
Too deep for a Thursday afternoon. I shut my computer down at five the usual way. I gather my things starting at 4:00 p.m. and stare at the log in screen from about 4:30 until the digital display ticks over to signal the end of the day. I could hear Miles shifting in the office across from mine. Our desks face each other, although he’s angled his out toward the main area, maybe to appear more open to conversation, maybe to see who’s coming so he can exit out of his Elves vs. Dwarves role-playing game. Both of us are cursed with wide windows surrounding us and putting us on display for the rest of the office. He sits with his briefcase in his lap, waiting for the appropriate exit time. His door is open and so is mine.
“Hey, Miles,” I call over to him.
He glances at me wearily, as though he doesn’t wish to start a conversation so close to his end-of-the-day escape.
“How did you meet your wife?” I ask.
He swallows and offers a goofy grin. “At a witchery shop. She was looking at a display of cursed yarn.”
I scoot my chair around my desk to see him better. “No love oracles? No compatibility results?”
“Oh, of course she ran my name through. Just to be sure.” His attention shifts to his watch and then he stands. “Well, have a good evening, Ms. Hale.” He nods and heads for the hallway elevators, with a little quickness in his gate, like he’s afraid I’ll chase him down for more questions.
Gretchen strolls by my door and then backs up and blocks my way out. “So, I gather it went well?”
“Yeah, it was fine. It’s just…” I shake my head. “Never mind.”
“You know, I met my wife through Ever After. Molly paid for a list of names and I was at the top. She lived in Turmoil, just a one-hour drive away.”
“That’s wonderful,” I say. And I mean it. “My parents met the old fashioned way.”
“Did they ever check to see if they were compatible?”
“No. If they did they never admitted it.”
“They stayed together?” She blinks. “I’m sorry, that’s a rude assumption.”
“No, not at all.” I jump in to assure her. “They did stay together.” And died together.
“It’s just that forecasted relationships have a very low rate of divorce,” she explains. “And non-forecasted have a higher rate.”
The statistics are what keep businesses like Ever After in high demand. It’s not uncommon for couples to check for compatibility after meeting. The few who go through with a relationship despite receiving a less than favorable compatibility report often regret it. Fashion and women’s magazines are constantly running stories on ill-fated love matches, almost as though they’re providing society with cautionary tales.
Gretchen steps away from my door. “Anyway, it will be a fun case. If you have any questions or want to run some ideas by me, you can always come by my office.”
“Sure,” I say and force a smile like I might take her up on it. It’s convincing enough that she heads toward her office.
It’s not that I don’t like my boss, it’s just that I want to prove that I’m independent. My earlier case with Becker must have convinced her I’m easily spooked. Death Predictions actuaries have to be cut from tougher stuff or they’ll get shuffled around to the more mundane departments. Like Weather. Boring.
I exit to the elevators unable to stop thinking about how suddenly Ever After clients have been matched with the deceased. And why this has never been an issue before.
Chapter 3
11:00 p.m. and my laptop provides the only light in my bedroom, aside from the red glow of my alarm clock. I stifle a yawn and rub my eyebrows with my knuckles to stay awake. Wearing a ratty T-shirt and yoga pants, I sink a little more under my down comforter to get warm.
I want to sleep, but I know the moment I turn out the light and hit the pillow, I’ll be wide awake. My computer dims, alerting me that it will soon go to sleep. I envy it for its ability to doze off faster than I could. If I don’t eliminate the oddities surrounding this case, the ones burning holes in my brain that I can’t quite pinpoint, then I know I won’t be able to focus tomorrow. I add a few more sentences to the list of questions to send Yin.
When did the matches die? Were they recent deaths? Older?
Has this ever happened before?
What did your oracles say about the issue?
How many clients were affected?
Can I speak with the clients affected?
Can I have a list of the names of the deceased that were matched?
I hit send before I can think it over too much. The pipes rattle. Ali must be taking a shower. Our bathroom and bedroom share a wall.
Zen. Trees and ocean. All I can concentrate on is the itch on the bottom of my foot and the faint scent of the Banshee takeout I had for dinner. Yeah, relaxation never works to get me to sleep. I blow out a long breath.
The Lone Wolf: Surviving a World without Pack peeks out of my laptop case. I slide it out and scan the first chapter about diet.
When I met Becker a few weeks ago he had been eating vegetarian. He said he’d been trying to re
gulate his mood and instinctual impulses with diet and exercise. According to the book, the more feral instincts can be tamed by avoiding meat and meat products along with a rigorous exercise schedule, consisting of aerobic activities and weight lifting.
Vegan is the best option, but some werewolves have reported lack of energy and severe depression along with heightened anxiety issues.
Becker must have wanted to avoid or head off any adverse reactions. I flip to a random page.
Sexual instincts will seem uncontrollable in the early weeks of becoming a lone wolf. Sexual fantasies will become a minute-by-minute nuisance, but sex drive will lower when presented with sexual opportunities. This time period is frustrating for many latent wolves and will last for about two to three weeks.
I blush, feeling dirty reading about Becker’s hypothetical sex drive, but also he’s been using me as pack, so this doesn’t apply to him any longer. My sex drive has definitely increased. My body heats at the thought. I cross my legs under the covers. I read the rest of the chapter and come across this little tidbit:
Don’t distress; after rejoining a pack you will begin to crave meat (Becker had come over a few nights ago with hamburgers), mood will improve significantly (He’d been much more mellow and calm compared to when we first met), sexual urges will usually resume after your body has adjusted to normal rhythms—usually within two to three weeks.
I blink several times at that last line. Becker was going to be uncontrollably horny soon? Or he already was and was seeking out partners on the side to curb that craving, rather than cause any awkwardness between us.
I swallow. My mouth dry.
A scratching at my window, like a wild animal is clawing at the siding, keeps me from analyzing that section any further. I shove the book between my mattress and the wall, pushing it as far as it will go until the spine disappears under the pillow top and blankets.
