Incident 2 Common Sense, Where Art Thou? #2
Ross entered the—well, compound, for lack of a better word—and looked about curiously.
It wasn’t at all what he’d expected, and yet it didn’t surprise him, either.
On the surface, it looked like a gated community.
The houses were quite on the upper scale, all two or three stories tall, with a decidedly Victorian flare to the architecture.
They weren’t made of the traditional wood siding, though, but brick in various shades of colors.
All the yards were manicured to within an inch of their lives, creating a carefully cultivated look of wealth and pristine beauty.
Yes, on the surface, it looked like any other gated community for the upper class to live in.
Funny; he’d driven past here hundreds of times without even suspecting anything was different about it.
He felt a little like Alice, and had just found the entrance to Wonderland.
A strange, out-of-body experience washed over him for a moment before he shook it off.
Ross drove his little Honda Civic in, and the farther in he drove, he started catching glimpses of familiar faces.
Some of them saw him and waved cheerfully.
The whole subdivision was all of Glenn’s clan. Ross would bet his eye teeth on this.
The GPS took him down the winding road to the very back of the community, where a massive three-story house sprawled.
It was picturesque—the pale cream brick in high contrast to the rich green landscaping and all the mature trees dotting the property.
So, this was Glenn’s house, eh? Somehow, it suited him.
Ross pulled into the driveway and slid out of the car, adjusting his suit coat as he did.
He’d bought the suit for a funeral—his grandmother’s—two years ago and hadn’t worn it since.
Ross tried not to feel like he was possibly walking into his own funeral by wearing it today.
He was unaccountably nervous for some reason.
On the one hand, he still felt like this was a good opportunity, and it would be foolish to pass it up just because he didn’t understand it.
On the other hand, because he didn’t understand everything involved, he was leery about jumping in.
It left him with butterflies in his stomach.
The suit reinforced that this was an interview.
It gave him a feeling of normalcy, which Ross needed at the moment.
Besides, he looked nice in it. The unrelieved black from head to toe made his average looks appealing.
Levonn had assured him of this even as he tried to talk Ross out of the interview.
It was fine. Levonn would likely find this fit his definition of ‘creepy as hell,’ but Ross had more or less known what he was walking into even as he set up the interview.
He still didn’t have a rational reason for doing so.
Aside from the hefty salary, that is. He felt somewhat obligated to take the job, in truth, because of Glenn’s ride to the rescue.
And in practical terms, Glenn’s offer would give him the easiest route to finishing his degree without racking up a great deal of debt in the process.
Ross frowned. No accepting the job before getting answers.
Clearing his throat, he approached the front door and properly rang the bell.
It was answered rather quickly by the man of the hour himself.
Glenn was in business dress today, although he’d ditched the suit coat at some point.
He wore a deep, rich hunter green shirt with a very pale double-breasted vest and pants to offset it.
For the first time, Ross viewed him not as a supernatural being who may or may not give him trouble, but as Glenn.
The man himself. He stood in the doorway in a casual stance, his open delight easy to read in his expression and the hand he extended toward Ross, as if inviting him in.
The man was always impeccably put together, but today he looked more model than businessman with his red hair styled in a casual wave of soft curls to one side.
The freckles scattered across his face only highlighted the unique liquid gold of his eyes.
Ross had known intellectually Glenn was handsome, but for some reason it was now, at this moment, that it truly sank in on a deeper level. Glenn was handsome and Ross was attracted. His fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and touch, which, what the hell, hands? No.
Not knowing what to do with that revelation, Ross set it aside for later. “Glenn.”
“Ross,” Glenn returned with a wide smile. “Do come in. I’ve set out tea.”
Right, Ross remembered this. Annabella had explained at some point that vampire physiology handled liquids of various types quite well. It was solid food that gave them trouble. “You didn’t need to go through the trouble, but thank you.”
Glenn led him through the house, talking as he went.
“Let’s settle in my office. It’ll be easier to talk there, although we’ll likely get interruptions.
You’ll discover I’m often interrupted by my clan and their endless questions.
That’ll be one of your tasks, in fact. Helping me handle all those myriad questions. ”
“I see.” Ross looked about him as they walked.
Ross had seen a house like this once on one of those Christmas House tours his mother adored.
The foyer was cavernous in feeling, reaching straight to the third floor, the stairs white and arching as they wrapped around and around in the space.
As he followed Glenn to the right, they passed through an equally bright space with delicate furniture and bold art on the walls.
It looked like a formal sitting room, a place to receive guests.
The study Glenn settled into wasn’t like the other rooms. Rich, gleaming dark wood panels covered the ceiling.
A fireplace dominated one wall, but every other wall had built-in bookshelves crammed with books—and possibly scrolls.
That pile there looked suspiciously like scrolls.
The room was predominantly masculine with rich earth tones and overly stuffed chairs.
Even the china set on the coffee table looked the part with its plain white glaze and square shape.
It eminently suited Glenn, but Ross couldn’t explain why. Just an instinctual, gut feeling.
Glenn led them over to the sitting area, gesturing for Ross to take the chair opposite him. “Please. I’ve coffee if you prefer that over tea.”
“I drink both. And this smells nice.” Ross took a seat, pouring himself a cup, then another for Glenn. “Do you take it plain?”
“Two sugars,” Glenn answered, watching him with bemusement. “Are you in the habit of serving others, Ross?”
He paused, teapot in hand, and asked himself the same question.
This wasn’t really something you would do in an interview, was it?
But he’d done it without really thinking.
He’d always worked in the service industry—maybe that was it.
Habit. “I suppose I am. I’ve done it for a very long time.
But that’s not here nor there. I have questions for you. ”
Glenn accepted the cup with a nod of thanks and sat back, a lord at his leisure. “I expected nothing else. Ask.”
“What would my tasks be, exactly?” Ross took a sip of the tea. He wasn’t a huge fan of tea, but this was nice. It had a bit of zest to it.
“There’s a list of duties for you, in fact.
But do allow me to explain a bit about the clan first, as that carries into your duties.
At this moment, we have precisely one hundred and twenty-six members.
Unlike other clans, this one is made up of anyone I’ve invited.
We have everything from a Tengu—a crow demon from Japan—to a Scottish werewolf.
Most of the ones who are here are very old and displaced from their native homeland, which is why they accepted my offer to live here.
Some are childlike in appearance. We have eight vampires who were turned before they hit eighteen, in fact, so they are forever frozen in that age. ”
Ross took mental notes even as he considered the repercussions of that. “Wouldn’t that mean they’d need someone to play guardian for them in order to accomplish anything?”
“Precisely. Some of them have formed friendships with others in the clan, or formed a mutually beneficial partnership, for that very reason. But part of your duties would be to acquire things they cannot or to run errands in their place.”
It made sense. Just because you looked nine didn’t mean a hundred-year-old vampire would go without wine.
Or never buy things like properties or stocks.
Life had to be lived, after all. Ross had never seen the younger members at the gas station, but that meant little.
He’d not seen all of the clan there, just some. “What else?”
“Keeping track of the identities we use is also your task, as well as helping us prepare and file the necessary paperwork to change it. We try to not let any particular identity become older than fifteen years, but…” Glenn grimaced and took a sip of his tea.
“We’re not always in a state to manage those affairs well. Sometimes things slide.”
Something about the way he said that made Ross ask warily, “How badly have things slid this time?”
“I’m afraid to answer that question,” Glenn admitted frankly, a rueful smile tugging his mouth up. “You’ll start running.”
Ross had a feeling he was right. Still, he had no desire to start running just yet. “When was the last time someone held this position?”
“Not recently. Perhaps sixty or so years? Jerome was the last one in this position. He was quite good at it, and we missed him dreadfully when old age took him from us. I do try to keep an assistant, you see, but it’s hard to find the right person to fill the position.”