Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha-Chapter 20: Suspicions Rising

I did, in fact, lose consciousness.

They—the doctors at our local mega hospital—say it was from blood loss and insist I had no infection at all, which is pretty damn suspicious. My memory was very intact after I finally regained consciousness, and I clearly recall Logan mentioning that my legs already looked infected.

My bullshit radar pings hard, especially when I find out there’s no copayment or deductible for this stay. It’s all covered under some sort of fund for victims of supernatural crime.

When did we have a fund for that?

All very fishy.

After three days in the hospital, they send me home. Aside from a few tiny scars on my legs and a bunch of lies from the doctors in charge, I’m as good as new.

Yeah, right.

"The office?" Penelope scowls at me from the driver’s seat of her cute little yellow Jeep. "Why are you trying to go to work? You need to go home and rest!"

I should, but I’m not going to. "I need my computer. Just pull out and act like everything’s normal."

Looking at me with suspicion, Penelope shifts into drive in silence as I dig through my purse.

Wallet. Keys. A miniature journal I use as a notebook; no pages are missing. My phone, freshly charged. A tube of chapstick I open, moving the balm up and down in the cylinder and checking the lid.

"What are you doing?" Unable to stand it any longer, Penelope finally breaks the silence.

I motion for her to be quiet and shake out the rest of my purse. Nothing. No crumbs or dirt.

Then I slide my hand inside, pressing gently against the fabric sidewalls to feel for any defect.

Nothing.

I grab my wallet and pull everything out, emptying it into my lap. Nothing untoward there, either, and nothing inside my wallet that I can tell.

Am I paranoid? ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

Maybe.

"Okay, we’re good." Slipping everything back into my purse, I glance up to see Penelope looking at me out of the side of her eye. "What?"

"Are you involved in some sort of spy movie? What the hell was that?"

"Just making sure I wasn’t bugged." I grimace. "Things have gotten weird."

"How so? Last I knew, you were going to that creepy ass mountain villa. Then I get a call saying you’re in the hospital, and they don’t allow visitors. Now you’re checking for bugs?"

Leaning back, I just... sigh. What else can I do? A mystery decided to sideswipe me and a hospital acted like it never really happened. And SED never once showed their faces, despite my treatment being covered under some bogus fund for victims of supernatural crime. And Logan—well, he isn’t around, either.

Nothing makes sense.

"I was driving down the mountain when something hit my car. Not just something. It came from the passenger side, where there’s nothing but drop."

"Right. It’s terrifying up there." Penelope loves to go on scenic drives; she’s been to the Fernsby mansion a time or two, just enjoying the mountain. She’s weird like that.

Me? I like being in places where I get a reliable network connection.

"It slammed into my car and spun me around. Turns out, it was a panther shifter."

"A panther shifter." Stopping at a red light, Penelope frowns at me. "Hit the side of your car and made you spin on that road? On your way home?"

"Yes. He was barely coherent and shifted back to tell me to run away."

Someone behind us lays on their horn, jolting Penelope’s gaze back to the road. Green light. Oops.

"Run away from what?"

"That was my thought. What the hell is out here? How did he come flying into my car? I had a panther-shaped dent in my car he couldn’t get out of, Pippa. This was a massive impact."

She shakes her head. "That’s insane. Where’s your car now?"

"I don’t know. Towed to a junkyard, I’m sure." I should probably find out. Damn. I didn’t even take pictures for evidence.

Evidence for who? I don’t know. It just feels like I should have everything in my hands. Whatever happened, it was enough to have an entire team of doctors lying to me about my own treatment.

* * *

The office is bustling. I’m not sure what I expected when I returned; maybe a few people acknowledging I almost died? Saying they’re glad to see me back?

But no one even glances my way. Everyone’s either on a call or typing furiously, with an energy typically reserved for when our bosses are walking by.

Weird; then again, my paranoia’s at an all-time high right now. Maybe some new project landed. Or maybe the SED is on our asses. Who knows.

Let me backtrack for a second and explain something:

Technically, SED and our company aren’t related.

See, we’re a private company, and we run like one. But there’s this teeny tiny little thing; supernatural divisions aren’t government entities. Oh, we’re all government-funded in some way, via massive grants and other legal loopholes. Our company happens to be the one winning the bids for this metro area, and we’re considered the official branch of Anti-Magic Security. Have been for two decades. And we’re out to make money; government funding covers the less-affluent clients, everyday humans who don’t want to wake up as a vamp snack one day.

SED is much the same; a private company, funded in the same legal loopholes with all the force of the government behind it (unofficially), with the ability to take over from the actual human government departments, as long as supernatural forces are involved. The difference is that they’re completely funded through grants and community donations. And—if rumors are to be believed—bribes. Lots of bribes.

It all comes down to humans being a bit squirrely about giving supernaturals power in government. A few have gone rampant with power-hungry madness in other countries, and humans don’t like war atrocities. Especially when they hear of vamps or giant animals of prey tearing apart innocent civilians in cities.

Wolf shifter for president? No, thank you. The humans would revolt.

Supernaturals are great fighters, but their beastly sides tend to take over when they’re in blood lust.

We consider each other departments in our own faux-governmental world, but ultimately we’re just fancy shmancy private companies who have to win a bid to get any power at all. Like elections, but with money.

Though, I guess all elections involve money.

Either way—the point of it all is that on paper, they don’t have any more power over us, than we do over them. It’s just that SED is so large that they’re country-wide. There are few jurisdictions in the entire country who’ve gone with a company outside of SED. They have the monopoly.

We don’t. We’re limited to a 100-mile radius in our state. Large, but not at their level.

That’s where their true power lies. Companies like us are dependent on a good relationship with SED. They have the ear of the president. Of senators. They have the trust of every governor, mayor, and human civilian.

Supernatural Enforcement Division. That’s their company name. They even sound like government.

All of this is to say when SED snaps their fingers, we jump as high as they want us to.

Shrugging off the uneasiness weighing down my shoulders, I motion for Penelope to follow me to my cubicle.