He’s so opposed to what I’m about to do, it’s almost funny. His disapproval vibrates through time and space and anchors me to this moment. Nothing else here feels real.

“You ready?” the interviewer asks, taking a seat across from me. She’s older. Elegant. Her scent betrays how disquieting she finds me, but her poker face is titanium solid. Honestly, I’m impressed. “That’s what the viewers at home are seeing now.” She points at the monitors. “An interview with the geneticist that I recorded yesterday.”

The road to this hothouse of a studio was paved with buccal swabs, blood draws, and lab testing. Six independent groups of scientists have confirmed that I am “an interspecific cross” (Latin for freak, I believe) and not, as some pundits and social media trolls have decreed, “a grifter making shit up for clout.”

“. . .was not believed possible. We don’t have reports of hybrids, even from territories such as Europe, in which Weres and Humans live more amalgamated lives. What changed?”

“The most likely hypothesis is that random genetic mutations have occurred within North American packs.”

“Genetic mutations like what?”

“It’s impossible to say without more data. My hunch would be mutations in the genes that encode for gamete recognition, or regulatory genes. The bottom line is that these mutations made Weres reproductively compatible with Humans.”

“And these mutations, they affect all Weres, all over the world?”

“Unlikely. Were packs tend to be self-sufficient and isolated. For instance, packs such as the Northwest and the Southwest are known allies, which may come with genetic exchanges between them. But according to most Human observers, those two packs rarely interact with the New En gland packs. And the same is true for other North American and European packs: very few connections.”

“So what are the chances that Humans and Weres will become one single species?”

The geneticist laughs. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Keep in mind, most hybrids are not fertile.”

“What about this one?”

“She’s highly unlikely to be able to have children, with Humans or with Weres. The difference in chromosome structure will make it hard for her to produce functional gametes . . .”

An out-of-body experience, that’s what this is. My soul is up on the ceiling, dangling monkey-bar-style from a truss, staring down at my unresponsive body as it learns that it might not be able to have children.

For the first time.

In front of dozens of people.

From someone who laughs it off as a best-case scenario.

It’s okay, I remind my body as the inside of its stomach is being raked bloody. It changes nothing. It’s the least of your problems. You knew that this would be supremely shitty when you agreed to it. Stay on task. Focus on—

“. . .made you decide to come forward and speak to us?” the interviewer is asking.

We’re on air. I switch on. Plunge back into the moment. “Frankly, realizing that it was either that or letting others take control of the narrative.” I smile the same confident, self-assured smile I used to pitch stories to my editor or to charm the pizza place guy into giving me the slice with the most pepperoni. “Since my existence was made public three weeks ago, a lot of inaccuracies have been reported. I’d like to set the record straight.”

“I see. And to remind our viewers, The Herald, Ms. Paris’s former place of employment, received information about the alleged existence of hybrids from an undisclosed Human source. Its veracity was widely debated. Then, a few days ago, you made a statement to the press revealing your name.”

“Thank you for giving me the opportunity to share my story.”

“Could you explain why you believed you were Human until last year?”

People adore being served a good conspiracy theory. However, one must choose its platter and garnishments very carefully. Take my situation: I could tell the truth— that I was under surveillance my entire life because a few despotic members of Human, Were, and Vampyre societies were so power hungry and pathologically unwilling to coexist, they engaged in a complex web of sloppy but decades-enduring deceit. Problem is, it sounds . . . sketchy. Far-fetched. The responsibility is too diffused.

More importantly, it would only reinforce Humans’ hostility toward the other two species, and there are buckets of that going around already.

That’s why, after agreeing to this interview, Maddie, Lowe, and I put our heads down and workshopped a few talking points. The title of our story is An Evil Human Ex- Governor Locked Poor Little Hybrid Me in a Basement Because He Hated Peace. It’s palatable. Easy to understand. Might even allow the average Human to feel morally superior.

They would never imprison an orphan and lie to them.

They could even be inclined to open their hearts to a victim of injustice.

They might decide to see Weres as people, instead of glowy-eyed butchering machines.

And in the end, this is what we hope to accomplish: buy goodwill for Maddie Garcia, the new Human governor, and enough public support to make reforms possible.

“My real nature was kept from me. The former governor was afraid that as a hybrid, I had the potential to become a symbol of unity between Weres and Humans— an unwelcome one, since his political career was based on divisiveness and fearmongering.”

“You’re talking about former Human Governor Davenport, who unexpectedly died in prison two days ago?”

“Yes.”

It wasn’t us, Lowe was quick to say when the news broke of the governor’s death. A little too quick, considering I hadn’t even asked.

You sure about that?

Tragically, yes. Koen sounded disappointed. Though his Vampyre and Human accomplices may have had something to do with it. His death is very fortuitous for them.

My demure nod and murmured “Yes. May he rest in peace” should earn me several acting award statuettes. “He knew that I was half Were.”

“How?”

“That, we’re still researching. Unfortunately, I don’t have many memories of the first few years of my life, or of my parents. All we know is that by the time I was seven, I was living in a Human orphanage in The City. I suspect that through some routine checkup, one of the doctors realized that I was part Were and alerted Governor Davenport.” None of what I just said is a lie, which is highly unusual on my part.

“And what did Governor Davenport do?”

“At the time, he knew I was genetically half Were, but I presented as Human. Still, he thought it best to keep an eye on me.”

“And that’s why you grew up in the Vampyre Collateral’s mansion, as Misery Lark’s companion. She was the second- to- last Collateral before the program was discontinued.”

“Correct.”

“And when did you start exhibiting Were traits?”

“About two years ago.”

“By then, you were living freely in Human society, correct? Was Governor Davenport still watching you?”

I nod. “He had me abducted and imprisoned for several weeks.”

“Why?”

“I believe he felt threatened by the Human public’s possible reaction to my existence. At the time, Maddie Garcia’s gubernatorial campaign was picking up steam, and she was later elected. It was clear that many voters wanted to see some change in the Were-Human relationships, and Governor Davenport thought my presence might galvanize them even more.”

“Did he act alone?”

“As far as I know.” Blatant erasure of the Vampyres and Weres he was in cahoots with. I’m sure I’ll hear all about it when we meet again, in hell.

“How did you get free?”

Oh, boy. “I shifted to wolf form and escaped.”

“So you are able to shift?”