Mom and Dad were two of the best hunters on the eastern seaboard, and widely respected by their peers. That was why Levi, one of the bond agents they worked for, always gave them a heads up when a choice job was coming down the wire. Bounty hunting was a competitive business, and everyone wanted the top jobs.
Our neighbor, Maurice, was also in the business. He’d started out working with my parents, but now he traveled all over the country, taking on the really big jobs. Dad always said if there was someone better than Maurice Begnaud at bounty hunting, he had never heard of them.
“Any luck today, Jesse?” Mom asked.
Yeah, bad luck. “I think I have better odds of marrying a Fae prince than finding another job in this city.”
She chuckled. “You’ll find something. Nancy gave you a great reference.”
Nancy owned the coffee shop where I’d worked part-time for the last two years. After I’d graduated in May, I’d gone full-time at the Magic Bean, the plan being to take every shift I could and bank all my earnings for college. It had been going well until a freak drought wiped out entire coffee bean crops in South America.
Overnight, the price of coffee beans skyrocketed, and most people could no longer pay for their daily cup of joe. Smaller coffee shops, like the Magic Bean, hung on as long as they could before they were forced to close their doors. Even some of the chain stores were struggling now that only people with money – like the patrons at that Manhattan coffee shop – could afford to drink coffee.
I toyed with my food. “Unfortunately, there are too many people like me with good references.”
“The economy will turn around,” Dad said cheerily, even though we both knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon with the country in its second year of a recession. The only business booming these days was bounty hunting.
“I guess I could always join the family business,” I joked, earning disapproving looks from both of my parents.
Dad laid down his fork. “As proud as I would be to have you working with us, you are going to college. You still want that, don’t you?”
“More than anything.”
“Good.” He nodded and picked up his fork again to dig into his mashed potatoes.
Something cold touched the back of my hand, and I looked down to see Finch standing beside my plate, holding out a blackberry. His pretty eyes were sad, like they always got when he saw I was down.
“Thanks.” I took the offered blackberry and popped it into my mouth. “You’re the best brother a girl could ask for. You know that?”
His face lit up, and he scampered back to his own plate. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched him attack a piece of mango. All it took to make Finch happy was to see his family happy. That and lots and lots of fruit.
Realizing my parents had gone quiet, I glanced up to see sadness flit across Mom’s face before she hid it behind a smile. As I replayed my words to Finch in my head, I berated myself for my thoughtlessness.
Finch must have seen it, too, because he walked over to bring her one of his precious blackberries. She smiled and leaned down to let him put it in her mouth. Sprite children liked to feed their parents as a sign of affection, and Mom loved it when he did it. He was close to both of our parents, but there’d always been a special bond between him and Mom.
Her phone rang in the kitchen, and she jumped up to answer it. She was back a minute later, wearing a serious expression I knew well. It was her work face.
“That was Tennin,” she said to Dad. “He’s in town, but he’s leaving again tomorrow. If we want to talk to him, we need to go now.”
Dad was already standing by the time she finished speaking. The two of them looked at me, and I waved them off.
“Go on. I’ll clean up.”
I finished my dinner while they hurriedly changed into work clothes, which consisted of combat boots and dark jeans and T-shirts. Though I couldn’t see weapons, I was sure they both carried them. My parents never went anywhere unprepared.
“We shouldn’t be too late,” Mom told me as she tucked her phone into her back pocket.
“Be back by curfew, or you’re both grounded.”
Finch whistled in agreement and wagged a finger at them.
Mom laughed, and Dad winked at us as they rushed out the door.
I put the leftovers in the fridge and made short work of the dishes. Leaving Finch to finish his meal, I went to my room and spent the next hour scouring the classifieds and job sites. It was a depressing task, but one I did every night. I was going to college, even if it took me years to save enough to get there.
I looked at the envelope bearing the official seal for Cornell University that was pinned to the bulletin board above my desk. Beneath that envelope was one from Stanford and another from Harvard.
I had been over the moon when I got acceptance letters from three of my top picks, until I saw how much it would cost. Tuition had almost doubled in the last decade and colleges didn’t give full-ride scholarships anymore unless you were an athlete. Mom and Dad had some money put away for college, but it wasn’t enough to pay for tuition, books, and years of living expenses. I’d thought I could work my way through college, but I would need a full-time job with great pay just to cover tuition.
Last spring, the Agency had tried to recruit me into their intelligence program after graduation. It was normal for them to recruit from the top five percentile of high school graduates, and I’d been in the top one percent. In addition to training, the program included a free college education at the school of your choice, as long as the degree was in an area that could be utilized by the Agency. The lure of a free college education was strong, but I’d also be obligated to work for the Agency for five years afterward.
My phone vibrated on the desk, and I read the text from my best friend, Violet. How goes the job hunt?
Guess, I wrote back.
A sad emoji appeared. Mom or Dad would give you a job.
Violet’s father owned a big accounting firm, and her mother was a high-powered defense attorney. Even if one of their firms had an open position, it would be nothing that an out of work barista with a high school diploma was qualified for. If Violet asked them, they might create an intern position for me, but that felt too much like charity. I wasn’t at that point yet.
Ask me again in a few weeks, I said.
Will do.
The twang of a guitar string interrupted my texting. I looked over my shoulder at Finch, who stood beside my guitar, watching me hopefully.
“Maybe later.”
He plucked another string with a little more force, and I knew he wasn’t going to leave until he got what he’d come for.
Shooting him a playful scowl, I picked up the guitar and went to sit on the bed. “I just learned a new song. You want to hear?”
Finch signed, Annie’s Song.
I scrunched up my nose. “Aren’t you sick of that one yet?”
He shook his head and climbed up to sit on my pillow.
“You’re such a dork.” I started to play. Ever since Mom had come home with an old John Denver album last year, Finch had been obsessed with that one song. It was a good guitar song, so I’d learned to play it for him, but now he wanted to hear it all the time.
Sing, he signed.
I shot him the stink eye and started over, singing the words I knew by heart. My voice was passable, but Finch fell into a trancelike state every time I sang to him. It didn’t happen when Mom or Dad sang, and I’d read that something like one in a million people could entrance lower faeries with song. I’d tried it once on Gorn, and he’d looked at me like I was nuts. That was when I’d learned it didn’t work on all faeries.