by Hayes, Drew
“Wards are done. I still think you’re being just a tad overly cautious, but they’re set.” Amy entered from another doorway, dusting chalk from her hands. Tempting as it was to have Krystal or Arch around to keep things in hand, agents had something of a fearsome reputation among parahumans, and not one that entirely unearned. Asking some less terrifying friends to help out seemed a better way to ease our applicants into the situation.
“I’m not sure those words ever apply when dealing with groups of parahumans, even ones as small as what we’ll be getting,” I replied. “And if there is a ruckus, the wards will at least ensure we don’t bother the neighbors.”
Between Amy’s skills, Lillian’s raw power, and Bubba’s clout, I was really hoping to keep the evening peaceful, but I’d been a vampire for much too long to not plan for chaos. In truth, that was almost something of an optimistic outlook: having trouble would mean that I had enough candidates to cause some, and part of me suspected Bubba would return with reports of a fully empty waiting room. Having spent years as an accountant in the parahuman world, I’d gotten a sense for the value placed upon those skills, and it generally wasn’t high. Certainly, there were those who saw the importance of balanced books, but on the whole, paperwork didn’t appeal to many living the supernatural lifestyle. My choices for employees would likely be limited, and I had to be at peace with that.
“Okay team, once Bubba gets back with a headcount, we’ll start things off. Amy, pass out forms, pencils, whatever they need. Lillian, help those who have questions, and keep an eye out for anybody that seems to get it right off the bat. Send them back to me as they finish, and I’ll handle the interviews. Bubba works security to make sure we don’t have any incidents, and hopefully, we’re all done by midnight. Should we do a ‘go team,’ or wait until Bubba returns?”
Lillian flipped through the stack of single-page applications—standard, boilerplate forms stripped down to only the most essential pieces of information. “Let’s wait and see how good his news is. Be a waste to cheer only to realize we didn’t have anyone to go out there for.”
It would be disingenuous to say Lillian was the pessimistic sort. A truer assessment would be to say that life had gone out of its way to prove what a bastard it could be to her, and she’d merely taken the message. Still, despite her tendency to brace for the worst, she didn’t sound entirely doubtful.
“You never know. I might not be the only weirdo willing to take a chance on a new career.”
The sound of an opening door drew all our attention to Bubba. He looked quite different than he had minutes prior, when he’d left our prep room for the first time in an hour to go check the lobby. His eyes were wide, a trickle of sweat was on his forehead, and tension radiated off his entire being.
“Good news: you definitely ain’t the only weirdo. Other news… well, maybe it’s best if y’all just come with me.” He motioned for us to follow, which we did. Bubba wasn’t a man of overstatement. If he said we needed to see this for ourselves, then it was true. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was taking us far.
We wound through the shared office building, into the floating desk section and the modest kitchenette area where workers no doubt took their meals during the day. We continued past the public bathrooms to where a robust door with a pane of clear glass separated the building’s inner workings from the world at large. Together, we clustered around the window, peering out into the lobby.
For a moment, I sincerely thought Amy had enchanted the glass to play some sort of television program, except that I’d definitely have heard about any show like this. The lobby had transformed from a simple empty space with ten chairs lined up into the sort of carnival people would pay millions to witness. There were the usual telltale, hulking shapes that denoted therians—several of those, in fact—along with a grumpy-looking fellow in robes I presumed to be a mage. Things got more exotic from there.
A satyr was arguing with a centaur about some sort of slight, both growing visibly more worked up by the moment. Something that had to be fey-adjacent, like a green version of the brownie I’d seen June call upon, was darting around between legs, while a creature unlike anything I’d ever seen before was casually chewing on the top of a chair. Tentacles whipped past the window, their source outside my field of vision, and I had just enough time to catch sight of Hank, no longer sleepy-eyed, darting to deal with some emergency before the tentacles flitted past again.
“What the heck is going on?” I barely dared even to whisper the words as I slowly backed away, fearful the full attention of that room would fall upon me.
“Near as I can figure from chatting with the room, they’re all here to apply for the job.”
“The accounting job?” My eyes darted from Bubba to the room and back in rapid alternation. “Richard said he was going to put the word out, but not to expect much response.”
I felt a gentle patting on my shoulder as Amy came around to my side. “Looks like he didn’t realize how strong the siren song of finance is. Or something weird is going on.”
Oddly, Amy’s words halted the mounting panic in my mind. Right. Of course, something was up. That was always how these things went. We just needed to find out what the issue was and take care of it; then, we’d be able to get down to the business of making a new hire.
“No helping it, I suppose. New plan is the same as the old plan, except everyone starts poking around to find out why these people are really here. In the meantime, if they want to pretend to apply for the job, that just presents an easier way to ask questions and assess their real goals. You three head out there and see if you can get things settled down before Hank blows a gasket.”
“What about you?” Lillian asked.
I pointed back to the conference room we’d just left. “Off to make copies of the application. We’re going to need a lot more than expected to deal with that crowd.”
2.
After a quick run to the copier, I headed back toward the packed lobby, head still spinning. What could have drawn everyone here? The most obvious answer was that this was an attack by someone like Quinn or the Turvas. The problem with that theory was the sheer variety of parahumans in the lobby. Outside the House of Fred, millennia of supernatural infighting had made the parahuman community surprisingly segmented. Coexisting was one thing, but for all those creatures to be working in unison would take diplomacy and connection well past anything I’d seen my old threats display. Deborah, perhaps, could have pulled it off, except this was nowhere near her style.
I was so lost in thought I nearly plowed into a tall, broad man lingering in the hall. His attire was dark, well-tailored to his thick frame, and professional. Exactly the sort of ensemble one hopes to see on applicants at a job interview. A heavy brow and dense features adorned his squat head. It was curious; I’d never seen a man so large appear to be so densely packed in. Probably a therian of some sort. He certainly had the bulk for it.
No sooner did our eyes meet than he gave me a curt nod. “You are Fred. I am here for the position.”
“Fantastic! Are you my first interview?” I checked his hands for a completed application, only to see the stubby fingers completely empty. “Whoops, looks like you missed the lobby. Have you talked to Amy, Bubba, or Lillian yet?”
Slowly, his head turned, signaling no. There was an ember of confusion in his eyes as he made the motion, yet he asked not a single question.
“Nothing to worry about. I’ve gotten turned around a few times in here, myself. Come on. I’ll walk you there, and we can get you started.” We moved down the hall together, a heavy silence immediately descending. While normally, I’m fine with a lack of conversation, the context of this situation made it appropriate to get to know my candidate. “What’s your name?”
He took his time in answering; we were nearly back to the lobby when he finally spoke. “I am Gregor, of the Slate-Claw clan. First in my cracking, first in the fang and the fist, initiate in the—”
The loud buz
zer that sounded when opening the door to the lobby cut Gregor off, which was actually helpful, since I was about to have to part with him, anyway. Much as I wanted to learn about my applicants, I also had a chaotic crowd to deal with and interviews to conduct. We’d pick things up again once his turn came back around.
To be polite, I waited a moment to see if Gregor would resume his speech. After several seconds with no words, there was little choice but to press forward. “I look forward to reading all of your titles. Please, fill this out fully, then let one of my staff know and they’ll get you slotted for an interview. If you have any questions, they’ll be glad to help.”
Despite accepting the application and moved to a chair, Gregor’s face was still creased with confusion. Not the greatest signifier of a competent future accountant, but perhaps he was the sort to gain momentum once he grasped the material. There would be time enough to find out later; until then, my concern shifted to the still spiraling room.
In fairness to my people, they had managed to calm the worst of it. Almost everyone was seated, though the centaur really didn’t have that option and a few folks preferred to stand. For the most part, conversation had dimmed in volume, if not intensity. There were still fierce whispers being traded, as to whether they were barbs or questions, I lacked the focus to discern. My mind was busy scanning the room, clocking who was doing well with the applications, who was struggling, and most importantly, who I thought our biggest troublemakers would be. With some purposeful scheduling, we could theoretically churn through the ones causing the most chaos, get them interviewed and out the door.
The problem with that plan became immediately evident when Lillian ran over with a slender stack of applications. “Looks like we had three who understood what we wanted on the forms and got them done properly, so these are going to be your initial interviews. We’re helping everyone else, and they’ll slot in once they’re ready.”
Right. Of course, the more competent ones would be first. They would have come in prepared, ready for a real interview, not a clusterfudge in a coworking space. Mentally readjusting, I decided to lean into the task at hand. I would get the most promising candidates processed before things inevitably went crazy. Hopefully, when the dust settled, I’d have some prospects and the night wouldn’t be a total bust.
I probably should have been more concerned, given the factors out of my control, except that, by this point, mysterious happenings and people potentially trying to kill me were becoming par for the course. Besides, knowing the strength of who was with me, I didn’t feel especially vulnerable. Technically, I should have also had a new bodyguard, but I was in no hurry. Despite the last one turning out to be okay in the end, there was little compulsion in me to replace Deborah soon.
I took the pages from Lillian and gave them a perfunctory scan. They were all completed properly, but the first application had a strange smear of color at the top, like something had been written and erased. Probably grabbed a red pen by mistake and started the application; it could happen to anyone when improper supply labeling was allowed to run rampant. Since the rest was in order, and quite good order at that, I checked for the name.
“Al?” No last name, which was more common among parahumans than I’d initially suspected, though the moniker’s brevity had me wondering just how many of the assembled crowd might respond. As it turned out, only a single candidate was waiting to hear that name called.
“Here!” She popped up into view, previously hidden between the heft of the two therians hunched over and scribbling on their applications. Al was on the short side, a couple of inches under Arch, and was one of the few people who had dressed to interview. I’d known to expect a casual air from the start—parahumans and formality go together about as well as vampires and garlic bread—so it was a pleasant treat to see another someone in appropriate garb: a sleek, simple suit, the sort one might see among cubicles in any corporation. Al’s wide smile, enthusiastic eyes, and cheery demeanor certainly didn’t hurt, either. Working with happy people made the environment better for everyone.
“Come on back. Let’s talk about your application.” I held the door as she darted through, quick on her feet despite her short legs. We had a brief walk to my temporary office, chosen purposefully to make it easy for candidates to find. Interviews would happen here, whereas the conference room was for regrouping with my team. Given what we were now staring down, we’d need a place to work and strategize away from prying ears. Even if things were spinning out of control, we had to appear competent. That was the employer’s part in this hiring dance.
The office itself was simple: blanks walls, a simple desk with one comfortable chair on the far side and two lesser ones closer to the door. It lacked a computer, but I’d be using my own laptop anyway, so it was hardly an issue. Aside from those basic accoutrements, there was only my own stack of pages and a bowl of plain diner mints. I’d had enough interviews where anxiety over things like breath had set in, so I thought my applicants might appreciate an on-hand remedy.
No sooner was Al seated than she began to speak, forcing me to hurry across the desk to get in position. “Thanks so much for doing this, by the way. When word went out, I didn’t even believe it at first.”
“That an accounting firm would be hiring?”
Al made a disturbing noise in her throat, like a high-pitched hack. “Well, no, that part makes sense. But the fact that you made it open.” Her already worryingly wide eyes expanded even more. “Wait, this is open, right? You know I’m not a vampire?”
We were only a few sentences into the interview and I felt like it had already taken several wrong turns. Still, if I’d accidentally done something unique, that might explain the gathered crowd. “I didn’t want to be rude and ask, but yes, I noted you lacked the traditional hallmarks. I’m not interviewing for vampires, though. Only accountants, or those interested in learning the trade.”
Relief swept through her, and for a moment, I could have sworn the room smelled like honeysuckle. “Thank goodness! I knew the word was that anyone could apply, but… you know… some people just like to say that. They don’t actually want anyone ; they want someone who fits what they’re already searching for. Especially in the parahuman world. Unless you’ve got a specialized skill set like therians and muscle, it’s hard to find someone hiring outside their species.”
Was that really it? Were the opportunities for career advancement in the supernatural so rigid that even a position on my staff, innocuous as it was, represented previously unavailable opportunities? It was certainly possible, and seemed to be Al’s case, but I wasn’t so sure it accounted for the rest of the crowd. Accounting wasn’t really that exclusive an educational specialty, even more so thanks to the rise of online classes. Anyone with sufficient means and motivation could start down this path for themselves. The idea was a nice one, though, and I hoped it turned out to be the rationale for the vast turnout.
“I am happy to report that today’s search is sincerely only about finding new accounting employees. Your particular parahuman nature is your own business, and you should feel no need to disclose it. The sole exception is if you have any specific requirements for a safe working environment, such as my obvious sun allergy. We can’t make accommodations without a proper warning, after all.”
Another wide-eyed stare as Al processed my words. “Seriously? You’d hire me without even knowing what I am?”
“Is there some reason I shouldn’t? I presume that if your species had incompatibility issues with being around vampires, you wouldn’t have come for this interview. You will have to be around a variety of different parahumans for the job; I do want to make that clear up front, in case it’s an issue.”
“No, that’s no problem.” Al reached into her jacket pocket. I caught a flash of color before she produced a white handkerchief and dabbed at her temples. She didn’t appear to be sweating, so perhaps it was a nervous tic, the way I still made a habit of breathing, though it served no purpose. “I
get along with everyone. Sorry, I know it seems silly to be nervous about all this. I guess part of me kept expecting the other shoe to drop; for the rumors about you in the lobby to be right.”
My ears perked as my stomach dropped. Nice a delusion as it had been to think everyone was here to learn the trade, mysterious rumors seemed a far more likely clue to the explanation. “There are rumors about me?”
“I mean, not just you, personally,” Al said, backpedaling quickly. “About the clan as a whole. You keep picking off top talent from other groups, making powerful alliances; I heard you even survived a visit from the Blood Council. It’s just, there’s some who think you might be, you know… gathering enough strength to kick around the old power structures. People see a chance to be on the ground floor of something new, so they’re jumping at it.”
Only my professionalism kept me upright and smiling, like this was nothing more than silly gossip floating around the office. It wasn’t the first time word of our exploits had been warped in the retelling, but before, it had always been seen as a laughable delusion. If people were starting to take that silliness seriously, then we were in trouble.
Because if the masses thought I was preparing to revolt, then that meant my lobby wasn’t stuffed with aspiring accountants. It was full of people looking for a fight, and when I didn’t have one to offer, they might well choose to start a brawl of their own.
3.
Unwelcome as that news was, it didn’t fundamentally change the task before me. I still had to hire more help for Fletcher Accounting Services; the fact that my waiting room was staffed with people who had the wrong idea about what we were offering promised to make that more challenging, but it didn’t remove my need for assistance. Especially with my honeymoon bearing down on us. Krystal had made it abundantly clear that if she was stepping away from work for a full week, I was expected to do the same.
