For the last two years, she had worked in SingleEarth’s IT department. It didn’t matter that there wasn’t much challenge in it, because it was just a job, an excuse to keep up to date and fill the time before she moved on. This new job, working as a mediator at Haven #4, wasn’t glorious, either, but it was an entry-level position on SingleEarth’s crisis team, where someone like Alysia could really make a long-term career. Long-term. Career. There are two concepts I never thought I’d be interested in. Yet here she was, standing in the middle of nowhere while the brisk December wind cut through her, despite her jacket and gloves. Most of the trees in the forest around her were pine, but there were enough bare branches and old, fallen leaves to give it a tired feel. Haven #4 was set in the woods of western Massachusetts like some kind of bizarre college campus. The buildings were connected with old-fashioned cobbled paths that always made Alysia wonder why an organization dedicated to peace and inclusiveness for all creatures who lived alongside humanity—shapeshifters, witches, vampires, and other oddities Alysia had only ever heard of—couldn’t design a Haven that was wheelchair-friendly.
