The Lord Mayor's Donor

Chapter One

The moment Verity set foot in the editor's office, she knew she wasn’t leaving with her job.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Jay demanded, his tone reminding her of her mother. I’m not mad, just disappointed.

“I was thinking that it was the right thing to do.” She knew this might happen, but in truth she hadn’t expected the article to take off like it did.

“Well, I hope that the right thing to do is gonna pay your bills.”

“Jay! It was freelance; it had nothing to do with the Gazette…”

“Of course it did!” he shouted. Okay, maybe he was mad. “If anyone searches your name, the first thing they see is the Stonehaven Gazette!”

“But people died…”

“It doesn’t matter! You can’t say things like that about vampires, Verity!”

“But they didn’t care!”

“I don’t care!” Jay screamed, face turning red.

The other reporters watched from outside the office, some peeking over monitors, others outright gaping. She looked at Jay then, really looked, saw the dark circles under his eyes of a sleepless day, the deep furrow of a brow forgetting how to relax.

“I don’t care,” he repeated, quiet and defeated. “You can’t say things like that about vampires. Who do you think owns the paper?”

There was no point arguing. It wasn’t Jay’s decision to make, and if the almighty vampires who owned the Gazette decided she was out, then she was out.

“I didn’t say all vampires,” she murmured.

“It doesn’t matter. You said they didn’t care about human lives, and you can’t take something like that back. I’m sorry.”

Verity nodded.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m sorry too.”

He caught her arm as she walked to the door.

“It was a good article,” he whispered.

She offered him a tight smile before heading for her desk. Verity didn’t have much, just her laptop and a couple of notebooks that she shoved into her bag. As she closed her laptop she noticed a sticky note on the screen.

Vincit Omnia Veritas.

Truth conquers all.

She knew that catchphrase, just as she knew the scratchy handwriting of the man who worked opposite her. Closing the screen, she met Trevor’s eyes. The slight nod he gave her was perhaps the most approval she had ever seen from the veteran reporter in the eight years they’d worked together.

Her eyes stung.

Verity had expected to lose her job when she left her flat that evening. She expected to be shouted at, expected to do the walk of shame from the office. But Trev being nice to her? That she hadn’t expected.

She also hadn’t expected to find the eviction notice waiting on her doormat at home, or the withdrawal of her car insurance, the cancellation of her credit cards, phone contract and every one of her email accounts.

She hadn’t expected that, after building a career and dedicating her life to reporting the truth to her community, she would have to ask her parents if she could move back home. To be sleeping in her childhood bedroom at thirty-one. To have nothing.

Three months later

“Wakey wakey, sweetheart. Bonfires start in an hour.”

Verity whipped her bedroom door open, catching her mum mid-knock.

“I’m not a teenager, you know,” she said, pulling on a woolly jumper. “I don’t need a wake-up call.”

“Well,” her mum pouted, “I just don’t want to be late, and thought you might appreciate a lift into town.”

She would appreciate the lift. Buses were a nightmare at Yule, and with the bonfires being lit in an hour they were already late.

By the time they arrived, the sun was but a glimmer on the high-rise windows that circle the ancient city centre and the market square bustled with people.

Humans now; but vampires would join them soon enough.

Dancers and singers, local craftsmen and bakers filled the dusk air with music and sweet cinnamon.

It was everything Verity remembered from her childhood in Ashhaven, including Cora who wove through the crowd towards them.

“Hey, babe,” she called, pulling Verity into a hug. “How’s it going, Debs?” she asked, grabbing Verity’s mum.

After being best friends throughout childhood, Cora and Verity went years without so much as a hello, but the second she moved back home, she was the first person to come knocking.

Barely five minutes of awkwardness passed before Cora started ripping Verity for her enduring love of boy bands, and they fell into the familiar groove of true friendship.

“I’m very well, thank you, love. Is the cafe not open tonight?” Debbie asked.

“Naa, there’s no point. Everyone’s here, I’ll just be sat on me lonesome being bored,” Cora grinned, tugging on Verity’s hand. “Wanna check the stands out? Jen from school makes bottle openers in the shapes of dicks.”

“Cora!” Verity turned to her mum who grimaced.

“You girls have fun,” she said, averting her eyes from the pair, before waving to someone in the crowd and wandering off.

Cora linked arms with Verity and dragged her through the throng.

“If you’ve got a picture, she does commissions,” Cora went on.

“What?”

“A nice cock,” she said, ignoring the startled looks of strangers they passed. “Or maybe a romantic present for a boyfriend, or…”

“For Phoenar’s fucking sake, Cora. That’s gross!”

“No, it isn’t. I got one for Toby. He loved it.”

Verity couldn’t help but laugh. If one thing had saved her these past months, it was Cora. Even if she did make her want to die of embarrassment at times.

Before long they stood in front of a stall displaying impressively detailed wooden penises, each acting as the handle for a bottle opener. Cora must have touched every single one of them while Verity stared in mortification before moving on to the next stall.

The moment the last rays of sun departed, the bonfire roared to life, bathing the square in flickering gold.

It had always been Verity’s favourite part, when light danced across the grey marble of the town hall, as if even the imposing building, towering over the square, couldn’t help but join in the festivities.

One by one, lights blinked on in shop windows and from strings hanging between stalls, until the town itself glowed.

A joyous beacon welcoming the longest night and the new year to come.

The duo drank cups of steaming spiced wine as they watched the dancers and listened to choirs, harmonies weaving between the crackling fire while Cora filled Verity in on every ounce of gossip she could muster. Until a woman stepped in front of them.

“Would you ladies like to make some extra money?” she asked, and Verity was immediately listening.

Since returning home, she had hoped things would get easier, but nothing changed. After applying for every job under the moon, not one person had offered her an interview, not even a phone call. It was as if the world had been told not to touch her.

The woman smiled at Verity, sensing her ears pricking, but Cora grabbed her arm. “We’re good, thanks,” she said, but Verity didn’t budge.

She looked at the stall and… fuck.

The Vital Exchange.

“Err…” The moment of faltering was all the woman needed.

“We’re running a recruitment drive for new donors at the minute, with welcome bonuses and retention rewards.”

“Must be desperate,” Cora commented, jaw clenched.

“Not desperate,” the woman said with a moonlight smile. “We just like our donors to feel appreciated. Do you have another job?” she asked Verity.

The shake of her head had the woman beaming.

“Wonderful! Most humans only want the part-time positions, donating fortnightly, but we are always looking for full-time donors.”

“Is that safe?” Cora butted in. “A person can't give blood every day, surely?”

“It’s every two to three days and it’s perfectly safe, I’ve been doing it for six years myself. With the right supplements and an occasional transfusion, you’ll be fit as a fiddle. Let me take your details.”

She nodded Verity over to the stall, and against her better judgement, Verity followed.

“I’m guessing there are background checks?” she asked.

“Of course. Lots of interviews and tests to get in, I won’t lie, but it’s so worth it. All of the good that we do. It’s an honour, it really is.”

She grabbed a form and Verity couldn’t help but notice the countless tiny scars peppering her wrists. She tried not to snort. An honour indeed! Being used as a human pin-cushion didn’t sound particularly honourable to her.

However, the Exchange paid well, everyone knew—good money for fresh blood—and she had all that blood going spare.

“Name?” the woman asked.

As soon as they carried out a background check, they would see whatever warning everyone else was seeing and ditch her. So, what was the harm in trying?

“Verity Harper,” she said. “And I would like to try for a full-time position, please.”

“Perfect!”