He winked at her, making me gag, before he turned around and walked out the door.
She started to follow him out but paused and turned to look at me. “I hate your brother,” she informed me, as if I hadn’t noticed. “I sure hope you are nothing like him.”
I couldn’t help but snort at the mere thought of being anything like Thayer. “Don’t worry,” I told her, finishing my own coffee. “Thayer is one of a kind.”
That seemed to aggravate her even more, and she sputtered a curse before she left, slamming the door shut behind her.
With the rough morning I’d had, I felt the need to take a long, warm bath to cleanse myself.
For a few minutes after I wiped myself dry and put on a fresh pair of jeans and a simple black V-neck tee, I truly felt cleansed. I had let my mind roam aimlessly when I lay in the bathtub, and changed its direction when it tried to bring up all the thoughts I was desperate to put at the back of my head for now.
Once I was dressed, with my hair blown dry and my teeth brushed, I made myself a simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich before I grabbed my laptop and settled down on the sofa.
I had neglected my job, and everything else, really, due to everything that had happened in the last week. But now that I had some time for myself, I needed to get back to things. Perhaps write a new column for the magazine.
However, my hopes were crushed the moment I saw an official email from Andra, my editor and boss atThe Hallowing Hour. It read:
Dear Drew Colter,
This letter serves as formal notice that your position as a columnist withThe Hallowing Houris terminated effective immediately.
As you are aware, the magazine’s operations rely on a small group of key sponsors. Recently, these sponsors have expressed concern regarding the direction and tone of your published columns. Despite internal discussions and our attempts to mediate in the past few days, the pressure placed upon us has become untenable.
While the official reasoning provided to us speaks only of “brand alignment” and “public positioning,” it has been made clear—both directly and indirectly—that continuing your employment would place the magazine at risk in ways not fully disclosed to us. Certain decisions arrive from levels to which we are not privy, and we have been instructed to comply accordingly.
We want to emphasize that this outcome does not reflect the quality of your work or your dedication to the publication. We appreciate your contributions and regret that circumstances beyond the editorial team’s control have forced this conclusion.
Your final paycheck, including any outstanding compensation owed to you, will be processed immediately. Please return any company materials in your possession at your earliest convenience.
We wish you the best in your future endeavors and sincerely hope you find a platform where your voice can continue to be heard without interference.
Sincerely,
Andra M. Stewart,
Editor
The Hallowing Hour
My heart fell as the blood rushed out of my face.
The job I’d had since I turned eighteen was now gone.
I was fired.
Lips trembling, I slowly closed the laptop and pushed it away from me.The Hallowing Hourhad been my everything, the center of my world, for so long. It had been more than a mere paycheck for me; it was my only hope of one day reaching the supernatural world and having resources and backing to research what happened to my sisters.
But now . . .
It was gone.
Sure, the supernatural world had found me instead when Lucien appeared at my door, yet the only constant in my life—the only thing that stayed firm, consistent, and always there for me, the magazine—was now gone.
The timing seemed odd, and the wording of the termination letter made me think this couldn’t have been a coincidence. Never before hadAndra said anything about firing me. Hell, for the last seven years I’d been there,The Hallowing Hourhad never fired anyone; if anything, people quit on their own. The magazine couldn’t really afford to let go of employees.
My heartbeat quickened as I lifted my laptop screen back up and read the letter again.
It spoke of the sponsors—of which there were so few I could count them on one hand—and since I knew those companies, had met with their investment divisions, I knew there was no way they were really behind this.