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Chapter8 The Debt Transfer

Her mobile phone woke her, and she groaned, reaching out to drag it from the bedside table to her ear. She slit open an eye to check the read out and grimaced. It was the Werewolf Administration, the number well known as they liked to perform spot checks on werewolves to ensure that their collars were functioning, and that the werewolf was not engaged in illegal activities.

"Harper Patterson-Hemming, 196245," she said rolling onto her back. The threadbare curtains barely held back the daylight that wanted to enter the room, picking its way determinedly through pin-prick holes in the material that were testimony to a previous occupant's cat.

"Harper Patterson-Hemming," the man on the other end repeated crisply. "I am Admin Case Manager Scott Driscoll. I am contacting you in regard to a request for debt transfer. As you will know, it is preferred that a werewolf's consent is obtained before a debt transfer is completed. We strongly encourage werewolves to consent to transfer when they are offered. They represent a rare opportunity for a werewolf to improve their circumstances, not just for themselves but for all connected family members. So, do you consent?"

"Wait, what?" Harper dragged her hand over her face trying to wake fully. "I have never heard of a debt transfer. What does that mean?"

"It means that an individual or company has offered to pay the balance of your community debt on your behalf in return for your services. Most often we see these occur where a werewolf has a skill that is valuable to a business. The last werewolf I completed a transfer on was a talented jeweller, for example."

"What… services?" Harper sat up in bed. "What do you mean by services? I'm… nothing. I'm certainly not a talented jeweller…"

"Ah," he paused, and she heard him swallow. "Well, where the transfer involves a female werewolf, the debt transfer tends to be to a human man requiring ah… domestic services, but in this case, it says here that you are an 'entertainer" and the requesters wish to utilize your skills for business orientated entertainment. They own a wide range of ah… clubs and services… in the pleasure industry."

"Oh my god," Harper realised that he meant sex work. "No. No, no, no. I refuse."

'ms Patterson-Hemming, in the event of refusal, you must attend our office and meet with myself and the requesters. They will put forth their terms, and we will attempt to negotiate a mutually satisfactory outcome."

"There is no mutually satisfactory outcome," Harper's voice shook. "I am not a sex-worker, Mr Driscoll, I dance - "

"Admin Case Manager Scott Driscoll," he corrected her tersely.

"sorry, Admin Case Manager Scott Driscoll, but, really, there is just no way that this…"

'ms Patterson-Hemming," he squashed her protest. "I will schedule the meeting for eleven, then, if you are going to be difficult."

"Today?" She held the phone away from her face. "Admin Case Manager Scott Driscoll, it's nine. The busses here don't run to that sort of frequency that I will be able…"

He heaved a sigh. "You are being outrageously difficult, Ms Patterson-Hemming. I will add that if the werewolf fails to show to represent their case, the default solution is to approve the application without their consent."

"I'll be there at eleven," she whispered.

"Wonderful." He disconnected the call.

"Oh my god," she sat frozen for a moment, then leapt out of her bed and scooped up some clothing, running to the bathroom. She knew from the scent and lack of noise within the house that Connery and her mother had departed for their work in one of the factories that used werewolf employees. She showered hurriedly, dragging on her clothing over damp skin and dragging her wet hair into a ponytail and shoving her feet into joggers.

She brushed her teeth frantically before grabbing her purse and keys and running out of the house.

She sprinted down the road and just made it to the bus stop ahead of the bus.

"This bus goes to the city," the driver sneered at her. "Not to the factories."

"I know, I am going to the Werewolf Administration," she replied.

"Hmm," he was disapproving. "stand near the door and try to stay out of people's way."

She didn't protest although the requirement to stand near the door meant that every human man that passed by that was that way inclined would have the opportunity to grope her. There were plenty of seats on the bus, and no reason to make her stand other than simple discrimination.

She clung to pole as the bus began to move and prayed that she would get there in time. By the time she stepped out of the bus, she had counted twenty times a human had either groped her, or deliberately trod on her toes or bumped into her as they went past.

She put her head down and hurried along the pavement to the Werewolf Administration, a glossy building with a grand entrance up a set of elegant stairs. Being a werewolf, however, she was not permitted to enter that way and instead queued to the side of the building whilst the werewolves in front her were processed, their collars scanned, and names recorded.

"What are you here for?" The weary-eyed werewolf woman in front of her asked, passing the time. "I'm here for a general collar check. Their way of reminding us that we've slaves by dragging us away from our homes and families or workplaces so they can waste our day."

'debt transfer," Harper replied under her breath. "I hadn't even heard of it until I was called an hour and a half ago. If I don't get there by eleven, the approve it."

"shit," the woman said. "I've not heard of those. What is it?"

"Apparently humans can just buy us now."

"F-k me. Hey," the woman nudged the werewolf man in front of her. "Let the girl cut the line. She's here for a debt transfer."

"What the f-k is that?" The man replied but stepped aside.

"Thank you," Harper whispered, and she slipped up two places.

"What is it?" The woman in front of her asked.

"Apparently someone can just buy our debt," Harper explained. "And someone wants to buy mine. It makes you, like a personal slave, rather than…"

"Personal as in… personal?" The werewolf man was outraged.

"so, they told me this morning," Harper agreed.

"Hey," the woman in front of her stepped to the side. "Cut ahead."

"Thank you," Harper said with gratitude. With werewolf keen hearing, the queue in front had heard, and she was waved forward until she was at the head of the queue.

"Good luck," the man behind her said as she stepped into the door.

She cleared security and followed the maze of signs to the debt transfer office, arriving five minutes to eleven. The office was small and completely empty other than a bored looking secretary who listened to Harper's flustered explanation and pressed a button on the intercom.

"The werewolf for your eleven o-clock is here," the secretary drawled. "Through that door, down the hall, and to your left," she told Harper without interest.

Harper hurried down the hallway and paused outside the doorway to the left, wiping sweating palms against her jeans, before knocking.

"Enter!" Admin Case Manager Scott Driscoll's voice was unmistakable.

Harper opened the door and almost collapsed on the spot.

Admin Case Manager Scott Driscoll sat on one side of a table, and Dorian Hemming and Gwyn Randal sat on the other. All three men looked at her as she entered.

"Ah, there you are, Ms Patterson-Hemming, almost late," Admin Case Manager Scott Driscoll glanced at his time piece. "This is Mr Dante Lysander and Mr Owen Emrys, the requesting parties."

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