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“Same goes for teeth and eyes. Alas, the insurance companies don’t seem to care. But what can I do for you? I have a vampire to track down.”

“Aren’t the Fangs Out guys almost done?” he asked, checking his watch.

Fangs Out was our show featuring two vampire food critics reviewing human foods. They hated everything they ate. But it was hilarious. People tuned in. Which was why the station owners had insisted on us picking up another vampire show.

I hadn’t been convinced it was necessary. Especially since I’d never even heard of this Silas guy. But no one asked me.

“This is the new guy.”

“Oh, right. Anyway, is there anything we can do about the guests howling in the waiting room? My studio shares that wall and sometimes when I listen back to the show, I can hear it distantly in the background.”

“I’ll try to remind everyone, but you know how it is when someone starts a howl…”

“Yeah, I know. We can’t fight our instincts, can we? It’s the same with me and sparking flames when I get worked up. And you…” He trailed off, struggling to find an example of human traits.

“And eating too many sweets and rewatching period dramas when I’m sad?” I supplied. “Or maybe that’s just me. I’ll see what I can do about the howling. If it doesn’t stop, I’ll try to work on some better soundproofing for your studio.”

“Thanks, Maggs. I knew I could come to you.”

That was the problem when you were too good at your job, wasn’t it? Everyone came to you with more problems to add to your never-ending list.

“Anytime.”

“Good luck finding your vampire.”

If I didn’t find him soon, I was looking at dead air, which was practically the end of the world when it came to broadcasting. It was worse than someone dropping an uncensored F-bomb.

If the guy didn’t show up, I might have to get on there myself. To talk about what? I had no idea. But anything was better than people tuning in to silence.

Maybe I could get on there and bemoan the whole querying process and how difficult it was to get a book deal when you weren’t some big-shot influencer. But that would mean admitting to everyone at the station that I was pursuing another career outside of broadcasting. The questions would be relentless. One of the witches might be able to use a spell to uncover the pen name I wrote under. Then what genre I wrote in.

If those Alpha Mindset guys got wind of the fact that I wrote spicy romance novels in my free time, they would never let me hear the end of it.

So, yeah.

I had a vampire to find.

“Jack!” I called. The shifter was making his way out of the break room with what looked like a plate full of bite-sized bits of raw steak.

Jack refused to specify exactly what kind of shifter he was, though he hinted at it being of the K9 type. With his soft, sandy mane of hair and sunny personality, though, I suspected that he might be of the Golden Retriever variety.

“Heya, Maggie.” He turned toward me, trying to make it seem casual as he hid the plate of meat behind his back. “What’s up?”

His light green eyes swept over me, making me wonder what I looked like after running around for the past ten hours. I couldn’t remember the last time I caught my reflection. We tended not to keep mirrors in the common areas of the station out of respect for the vampire talent and guests.

I turned to the side. With the light hitting just right, I could make out my reflection in the glass door of one of the podcast studios.

My long, wavy brown hair was pulled up with a claw clip after it accidentally dipped into my tomato soup when I’d been having lunch at my desk, making it go all clumpy and stiff no matter how much I tried to scrub it out. The pink button-down shirt was wrinkled and gaped a bit on the chest but was still tucked neatly into my black pencil skirt that looked even tighter than it felt. That was the last time I borrowed my roommate’s clothes because my own clean wardrobe was down to a hideous peach bridesmaid dress and a pair of pajama pants.

I usually took a lot of pride in my appearance. But it had been a long day in a long week in an even longer month. I hadn’t had the time or desire to drag everything I owned down to the creepy basement to wash it all, where I would be forced to listen to the ghost of the previous super bemoan how poorly the building was being kept. Maybe I could treat myself to a new outfit to get me through another workday until I could catch up on life stuff.

I shifted the stack of mail and coffee in front of my very tight skirt as I looked at Jack.

“Have you heard from him?”

“Heard from who?”

“Silas,” I clarified. “Your talent.”