The Dangers of Dating a Rebound Vampire Read Free Page B

and computers available—as in “available on planet Earth,” not available at our local Computer Barn. And each of our chairs represented the very latest in ergonomically supportive, butt-cradling comfort.
    On the far wall, I spotted a console for the lavish Orange Door entertainment system, complete with digital jukebox touch board and four wireless headsets. We would be able to design personalized playlists from all of the songs available, well, anywhere and have them piped into our headphones while we worked—all of the mind fuel, none of the neighbor annoyance.
    We had entered Nerdvana.
    I noted that none of these little “gifts” from our employers would distract us from our work. We didn’t get the Ping-Pong tables or kegerators of the early dot-com-boom legends. All of our perks were meant to fuel productivity through the night. I might have resented the overt manipulation, but I did love free music downloads, so I would take the benefits package without complaint.
    The final touch, I supposed, was the enormous aquarium in the corner, filled with graceful, gliding tropical fish. Ms. Gibson explained that the fish tank was supposed to “accommodate the human need for color and light stimulation without the dangers of a window.” I didn’t think she intended to make us sound like cats in need of a flashlight to chase, so I let it go. The tank was pretty soothing, after all.
    Despite these very nice toys, we wouldn’t yet be receiving the leases for our company cars or anything from the “grand prize showcase” detailing our clothing allowance, full benefits, and a salary that would keep me in sushi and extra memory drives for years to come. First, we had to pass a probationary period. It was pretty sensible, really, when you considered the driving record of the average college student. It would probably be more sensible to give us a much longer probationary period, but we were only going to be working with the Council for a few months before we headed back to school.
    Of course, the probationary period was sort of twofold. Some of us would work freelance for the Council during the school year if we proved ourselves to be competent, trustworthy, and non-vampire-provoking. We would be able to keep the cars, the salaries, and the other perks and then slide right into full-time postgraduation employment. Sure, it would add some angst to my spring semester, but the dental plan would be worth it.
    Beyond the perks, the job was a challenge. It was a huge mystery waiting to be unraveled, and (thanks to a mid-semester switch in majors to computer science) I was one of a very few people who had the skills to do the thread pulling. And once the search engine was established, there would be other opportunities to work on the vampires’ secret projects. Who knew what I would see, what I could learn, where they would send me? This was the beginning of an exciting adult life in which I could establish myself as something besides Iris Scanlon’s baby sister.
    We were dismissed early, but barely so, after signing a mountain of releases, waivers, and nondisclosure agreements. Most of the paperwork involved agreeing that our estates didn’t have the right to sue the Council, no matter what happened. We also signed a single document in which we had to check “yes” or “no” regarding whether we wanted to be turned should we be injured on the job beyond the treatment capabilities of modern medicine. I was surprised to be the only one who actually mulled over this signature. Aaron, Marty, and Jordan all immediately checked “yes.” Then again, I doubted whether those three had any actual vampires in their families. They’d never seen the postturning adjustment problems, the struggle with bloodthirst, the horrible burned-popcorn smell that lingered after vampires came into contact with sunlight. Most people thought it was all nighttime glamour and